Romance of the Four Nations, Book 3
by kangaroo2010
Summary: It all ends here. The line has been drawn in the sand, and the time has come for everyone to make their choice, to either stand or fall. Many will enter, but only a few will leave, and the fate of the world will be decided by a teenage girl named Korra.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

TARRLOK HAD A SPLITTING HEADACHE.

It was truly horrid, like someone was slowly and carefully sliding a dull knife into his temple. Sweat poured off of him in sheets, and he desperately wanted to go outside. Outside, it was nice and cold and fresh, a light, soft rain drifting down from the heavens upon the city of Omashu. In the room he was in, though, it was hot and stuffy, candles burning just bright enough to illuminate, but not bright enough to keep him from having to strain to see, and the stale, musky air was thick with swirling clouds of cigarette smoke. He hated cigarette smoke, always had, and now, more than ever; the military-issue cigarettes that everyone but himself and Mother were smoking reminded him uncomfortably of the rancid hand-rolled things Father used to smoke when he was in his cups.

_Which was always…_

He had an unpleasant waking memory, his father's face looming before his eyes, breath smelling of stale liquor and even more stale tobacco. His father screamed and beat him around the ears, calling him worthless and less than a dog.

_Less than a dog…_

He shook the memory away, pressing his fingers to his temples and desperately trying to rub the pain away. It didn't help, not one bit, but, at the very least, he supposed, it gave himself something to do.

_Something other than listen to that horrid man talk to Mother…_

The conversation seemed to have reached something of a climax. The man in the Fire Nation uniform, the man called _Matsuura, _was smiling, tapping the ash from his cigarette down onto the floor. Tarrlok's brother looked monstrously bored, as only Noatak could truly be, when there wasn't anything to do, but Mother…

_Mother's eyes sparkled like a teenage girl's…_

Tarrlok tore himself from his thoughts, and did his best to listen.

"So," the man called Matsuura was saying, a bizarre little smile creasing his lips as he leaned back in his chair, throwing an arm over the back, "let me get this straight: You agree to come work for me, become a part of my unit, do whatever I ask you to do, go into all kinds of danger, and in exchange, you ask for…_nothing?"_

Mother nodded, hands clasped one atop the other on the head of her walking stick. Tarrlok suspected that she was smiling, but he didn't look to make sure. He hated it when Mother smiled; nothing good ever followed.

"That's correct, my dear," she said, in her _sweet old lady _voice. "We'll do all of that, my sons and I, no conditions, no payment necessary."

Matsuura shook his head, chuckling low in the back of his throat. "That is…quite the offer, my lady. Still," he pursed his lips, tossing his spent cigarette to the ground, not bothering to acknowledge the soldier who materialized out of the shadows to stub it out with their boot, "as incredible of a deal as that is…well…"

Mother shrugged. Tarrlok and Noatak said not a word. They had long ago learned the price of speaking out of turn; Father had taught them, in ways that it would be difficult to describe.

_Mother just reinforced the lesson, _Tarrlok remembered, why, he didn't know.

"It is what it is," Mother said, smiling her _sweet old lady _smile and giving a resigned sort of shrug. "You can either take it or leave it, my sweet. No hide off my teeth."

Matsuura nodded, as if he was taking it all in. Popping an eyebrow, he leaned forward, resting clasped hands atop the table between them. When he spoke, Tarrlok found himself surprised, not for the first time, at how flawless the man's Inuktitut was.

"Understandable, and, to be honest, I'd be a fool to not take that deal. Still, though…" He made a strange face, as if he was chewing on a particularly stubborn piece of gristle. Tarrlok watched, fascinated, even as his headache sent the blood pounding through his ears. "You see…my mother didn't raise any fools, and, thing is…when a man like _me, _gets a deal like _that, _well…" He shrugged, spreading his hands, as if to say, _You know how it is._

Mother laughed, which made Noatak chuckle and Tarrlok do not a thing. Mother's laugh used to make Tarrlok flinch and cry, but not anymore.

_Didn't seem to be much of a point in reacting anymore._

"That's understandable," Mother said, sighing. "Why don't you ask me why?"

Matsuura smiled. "That was exactly what I was going to ask. Why, my lady Hama? Why are you so willing to do my bidding, in exchange for nothing?"

Mother laughed once more, and when she spoke, it was no longer in her sweet, kind, grandmotherly voice. No, it was in _That Voice, _her _true voice, _the one that sent children running away screaming and let their family's victims know that the time to get right with one's gods had finally come.

_It was the voice she used, as she reached out her hand and waggled her fingers and made Father's heart burst in his chest. Noatak laughed. I didn't say a word._

_ Even then, there seemed no point._

"Well, my sweet," Mother said, leaning down onto her walking stick, "why don't you ask me _why?_"

Matsuura nodded. "You know…that's a good question. Pity I didn't think of it before. So," he said, leaning back once more and resuming his relaxed position, one arm flung over the back of his chair, "_why _are you willing to do so much in exchange for so little?"

Mother giggled, and Tarrlok watched several of the born killers lurking in the shadows of the room shift their weight and nervously tug at the collars of their uniforms.

"Because I'm going to get _plenty _out of this deal. You see, young man…do you know my story?"

Matsuura shrugged. "No, my lady, I do not." Even Tarrlok saw right through that one.

So did Mother, but Mother never tired of telling it, did she? "What a shame. You see…during the War, I fought. We don't keep our women away from battle in the South. Sure, they don't typically go out on the raids or march in the armies, but who do you think defends the village and the tribe while the warriors are away? We do. And one day, the Fire Nation came, and I was captured in the battle."

"I'm sure we treated you with the utmost courtesy," Matsuura said, in a voice that made clear he knew the truth, but didn't really care.

Somehow, Tarrlok found his honest face refreshing. He turned to his brother, tilted his head, and Noatak nodded, as if to say, _Right? I like this guy, too._

Though Tarrlok didn't know if he liked the man. He'd stopped trying to think things through a long time before.

Mother continued. "Well, then you can see why I hate the Fire Nation so much. But, thing is, the Fire Nation wasn't alone in what was done to me! In the camps, the prisoners treated each other almost as badly as the guards did, and when I tried to use bloodbending to get us out, I was shunned and beaten as a spawn of demons. When our tribe came to terms, I was cast out, because of my…ahem…_talents. _And out in the world, I endured countless hardships, from people of all four nations. That's when I realized the truth: _Humanity deserves to suffer. _So, you see," she concluded, sitting back in her chair, a wisp of a smile on her face, "if anything, we're the ones getting the better deal here."

Matsuura nodded, looking vaguely impressed. "So, you hate the world, and will do anything to make it pay."

Mother shrugged. "Pretty much."

"Hmm…" Matsuura turned to Noatak. "What about you, boy? If I remember correctly, this…_woman…_showed up on your father's doorstep, seduced him, made him teach her everything he knew about bloodbending, and when she had surpassed him, quite brutally murdered him. Is that true?"

Noatak shrugged. "Eh, Father had it coming."

Which, Tarrlok had to admit, was true. He couldn't ever remember feeling sad when Mother crushed Father's heart in his chest, all while cackling like a loon.

_In fact, I don't remember the last time I felt anything at all…_

"So," Matsuura continued, "why go along with this? Why even call her Mother?"

Noatak shrugged once more, examining his fingernails. "Because, she's right. The world is evil, and has to pay, but, most of all, the Avatar has to pay, for letting it get this way. Anything that puts me in a position to get at the Avatar, well…" Another shrug. "Sounds good to me."

Tarrlok almost had a feeling then. He couldn't describe it, because it had been so long, and besides, he could barely think for the pain in his head. Still…

_I'm pretty sure I almost laughed. We both know that's not why you follow Mother, Noatak. You've got mad dreams of revolution and blood and fire. You're nowhere near as heartless as you try to appear._

But then the feeling faded, and Tarrlok just slumped back into his chair, nursing the pain that was still slicing through his brain. What did it matter, after all?

_It didn't._

Tarrlok had known this for a long time.

"And what about you, Tarrlok, right?"

Tarrlok looked up, surprised, right into Matsuura's eyes, the eyes that, for all the fire that sparkled in the golden depths, were lifeless and cold.

Not that it bothered Tarrlok.

Not that he cared.

Which, he supposed, was why he shrugged, because why bother to tell the truth? No one would care.

_I follow, because I have nowhere else to go._

Who would give a shit about that? Not this man, that was for sure.

Matsuura seemed to approve. Nodding, he stood, performing a rather dramatic little stretch as he did so. "Well, in that case, it's settled. Though…hmm…" He tapped a finger to his chin, before his eyes brightened in a moment of epiphany. "You know…I could really use a demonstration…I never have seen bloodbending put into practice…"

Mother smiled, nodding at her sons. "My sons would be more than happy to oblige you."

Matsuura laughed. "I can imagine. Well, in that case…" He looked around at the men in the room, the three soldiers that were twitching nervously in the shadows. "You see…these three men? I have reasons not to trust them, reasons that I won't get into, because you don't care. So, do me a big favor, and kill them."

Mother giggled. "That, we can do. It's been too long since I watched Fire Nation die."

Matsuura smiled. "Well, then today is your lucky day, isn't it?"

Mother sighed with all the happiness that Tarrlok, when he was a boy, used to imagine his real mother felt, when she first held him in her arms.

"Yes," Mother said, "indeed it is. Boys? If you would be so kind…"

Noatak gave Tarrlok a look, and Tarrlok gave it back. In unison, they shrugged, raised their hands, and began to make their fingers dance.

Through it all, Tarrlok felt nothing. No matter how much Mother laughed, or how much Matsuura watched the proceedings, looking rather impressed, or how much Noatak smirked, or even how much the three soldiers screamed, Tarrlok felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

* * *

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand..._we're back! _See? I _told _you you'd get the prologue today! Sure, it took a while, mostly because I completely forgot about it for most of the day, but, hey, I was typing up Book Three, so I'm sure you don't mind.

So...fair warning, I'm going to be, like, _super needy _with this book. Seriously, I'm both so excited I would squeal like a little girl who just got a pony, and so nervous that, if I was a fingernail chewer, well...that's exactly what I'd be doing. I'm pretty much terrified. I hope I don't disappoint you guys. It's going to be...

It's going to be cray-cray, you guys.

By the way, points to those who figured out who Hama's _sons _were! There are going to be a lot more random characters, both LOK and ATLA, popping up all over the place. Keep an eye out for them; they won't always be explicitly spelled out, but they'll be there.

Moving on! In the next chapter, which comes Monday, because that's just how I roll, I'm a drug dealer that way, a novice runs. Stay tuned!


	2. THE NOVICE

THE NOVICE

TASHI RAN. He ran, because there were demons at his back, demons straight out of a nightmare, hideous creatures straight out of his worst nightmares.

_Demons…_

He didn't know how long he had been running, how long the battle had been going on. It could've been a minute, an hour, a day, _forever. _He couldn't think straight. Everything was confused, awash in blood and death and…and…

_Those eyes…_

_ So blue…_

_ So cold…_

Fire rained from the heavens, fire and death. There was a roar in the air, a roar he couldn't understand. It was like the world was ending, right here, right now. Heat lashed at his face, melted snow running in flowing rivulets down the streets. The earth shook, trembled like a beast in the throes of death. The horns blew and blew, and the gongs…

_The gongs won't stop ringing…_

_ They came over the cliffs…_

_ The eastern cliffs…_

_ Out of the mist…_

_ They said we'd be safe…_

He didn't think about that. He couldn't; it was simply impossible. His head ached, pain like a white hot knife searing his brain. His lungs burned, his body ached, he couldn't feel his feet, his ankles, his legs. Breath came in hot, sharp gasps. People were screaming…

_Screaming…_

_ Demons…_

_ Demons in blue…_

_ Sangmu grabbed me by the shoulders…_

_ Told me I had to run…_

_ Get help…_

He stumbled, fell. Pain lanced up from his knees, from his palms as they hit the hard, cold stone. Tears burned in his eyes. He bit down on the pain, bit down on the fear. Exhaustion came upon him, crashing down like a wave. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. People were dying and screaming, and the horns were blowing, horns and trumpets, air bison bellowing up above, the engines of airships roaring, the gongs…

_The gongs won't stop ringing…_

_ I only looked back once, before I went out the window and ran…_

_ Sangmu…she…she turned…_

_ Somebody was in the doorway…_

_ She screamed and screamed and-_

_ Gods…if you're really there…please help me…_

_ Help…_

"Hey, you need help?"

He blinked. He didn't know when he'd opened his eyes. He looked up, looked up into the face of a very pretty young woman, a girl with jet black hair done up in a tight bun, two thick locks framing her face. She had pale skin and golden eyes that flashed like fire. She had spoken Gorkhali. He didn't know what to do. She turned away from him, away from where she was crouching down before him, looked up at an impossibly tall boy with dark-skin and a painted face. She said something to the young man, in a language Tashi didn't understand. The young man spoke back, made a gesture that could only mean, _Right, well, hurry up. _

The girl turned back. She smiled, and somehow Tashi could tell that she wasn't very good at it.

"I'm Azula," she said, "and this is Sokka," she pointed at the boy.

Tashi nodded, or, at least, he thought he did. He couldn't be sure. He couldn't be sure of anything anymore. He couldn't even speak; his throat felt as if it had been torn to shreds.

"I know my Gorkhali is a bit rusty," she continued, "but…you're covered in blood, and something tells me none of it is yours, and, judging by your age, you should be in one of the novice's barracks, with the children and the elderly. So…what happened?"

The truth was, her Gorkhali was borderline incomprehensible. Just by listening to it, Tashi could tell that she'd learned it from a book, then never used it again.

Not that he cared. She was there, and she looked like she knew what she was doing, and so did the tall boy. So, Tashi swallowed what little spit he had, ran his tongue over lips cracked by the heat of a dozen flames, and told them about the demons.

* * *

I have an apology to make, namely that I almost didn't upload today. I know I promised to, but I might have had a little too much fun last night, and thus I spent most of the day dealing with the inevitable consequences of being really good at making rum &amp; cokes. But, you know what? You guys have come this far with me, and continue to believe in me and support me. Thus, you gets updates!

Also, my wife would NOT have been a happy camper if I didn't give her her updates. Which, honestly, outweighs even you guys, but hey, it is what it is.

For those playing the home game, if you end up confused? _Good. _Battle is always very confusing, and I'm going for a sense of displacement, of nobody quite knowing what is going on, but still trying to do their best. I hope I've achieved that.

Real quick, inthehood? You're absolutely right. The original cover image would eventually have made sense, but the more I thought about it, the more I didn't like it. So I fixed it! Also, on the subject of bloodbenders...for me, they're just like any other kind of bending. Your average waterbender can probably only bend blood during periods when the moon is waxing, _but, _as with anything, the more one trains and refines one's craft, the better it gets, and the more you can do and accomplish. Just like, for example, I imagine that a firebender would eventually be able to train themselves to not be that much affected by where the sun is in the sky, and things like that. But as for your comment on why not just use a battalion of bloodbenders in battle, well...that comes down to the Water Tribes having what I imagine would be quite a taboo against the practice.

Moving on, because this note is getting too long! In the next chapter, Suki sees her first battle, and discovers it's worse than she could possibly have imagined. Stay tuned!


	3. SUKI I

SUKI

_SO, _SHE THOUGHT, AS THEY RAN THROUGH THE STREETS OF THE TEMPLE, _THIS IS WAR. Noise, confusion, terror, blood, screaming, fire, and having absolutely no gods-damn idea what the hell was going on. _A part of her wanted to laugh, or, at the very least, try one of Azula's patented smirks on for size. _Just like Sokka warned me. "One minute," he'd said, "you'll be here, and the next, you'll be there, covered in blood, hopefully none of it yours, and you haven't the faintest idea how you got from point A to point B." _At the time, she had thought that would be impossible. After all, how could one just _lose track of time _in a situation where _keeping track of things _was, quite simply, a matter of life or death.

But now she knew. Oh, gods, did she know.

She desperately tried to figure out how this had happened. She remembered standing with Sokka, Azula, and a mass of what passed for soldiers among the Air Nomads, watching as the cavalry bore down on the Ninety-Fourth, chills running up her spine as both sides screamed _banzai _at each other. She remembered watching the earth come alive, as if it was a roiling ocean, out there on the field of battle, as Toph and a handful of earthbenders who lived at the temple went to work. She remembered feeling lost, alone, and confused as the world out there vanished behind a wall of fire and smoke, the air rent asunder by bellowed orders and the ring of steel on steel. She even remembered looking at Sokka and Azula and seriously considering mashing their faces together, if they didn't go ahead and kiss each other already.

And then…

_And then…_

_ The horns blowing, I remember that, those great, massive horns, scattered about the temple; it sounded like the end of the world. The airships swooping out of the clouds to the west, the fleet of air bison up above swooping to meet them. And the gongs…_

_ The gongs ringing, desperation trembling within every note, screams from the eastern edge of the temple, and the fires, fires where there shouldn't have been any fires…_

_ And the running…I remember the running…a headlong rush down narrow streets, ducking under arches, my heart thudding in my throat…_

_ Azula and Sokka, peeling off to talk to that terrified little boy…_

_ A glimpse, a flash, through a window, out the other side, fire, fire everywhere, forms fighting in the early dawn gloom, screams, cries, scarlet-and-black boiling up and over the eastern cliffs…_

_ And then…_

_ And then…_

She blinked. She was face-to-face with a young man, a young man who couldn't have been much older than her, if that. Blood was bubbling from between his lips, dribbling down his chin. He was going white, the life draining from his eyes. The years melted away, until he seemed very young, and very scared.

She looked down. The hilt of her sword was in her hand, and she had it in a death grip. She trailed her eyes up the length of the sword, right until…

_Right until it disappeared into his gut…_

He said something, right before the life disappeared from him completely. The words were in Nihongo, a language she didn't understand, and they were thick and slurred, as if his mouth was full of mush. She understood him just fine, though. At least, she thought he did.

It sounded a lot like he had said that he didn't want to die…

She blinked again, and a lifetime of training took over. It was either that, or curl into a ball and cry, cry until it was all over, or someone ended it for her.

She chose the training, because she agreed with the soldier she had just gutted.

_She didn't want to die, either._

So she twisted the blade in his stomach, bit down on the bile that burned in the back of her throat when a sound like boots squelching through mud reached her ears, withdrew her sword, and forgot about the soldier as soon as he began to slump to the ground. The battle raged all around her, fire and air lashing at each other. It was hot; winter seemed a distant memory. Sweat poured down her brow, down her back, but she ignored it. Someone was asking how many of the attackers might have gotten through before her and the others got here, but she ignored that, too.

A man came at her, screaming like a demon. She ducked under him, rolled, parried, drove her sword right through his throat and all but sawed his head off when she withdrew it. Blood sprayed across her face, and it was hot and tasted like iron mixed with the salt of her sweat.

She ignored even that. She focused only on surviving.

She didn't remember much for a while after that.

* * *

Someone once asked Audie Murphy (if you don't know him, you should; wiki him) about how it felt, when he did the outrageously crazy thing that won him a Medal of Honor. He ended up shrugging and admitting that he actually didn't remember much than garbled bits and pieces.

Keep that in mind.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Sokka hears about the demons. Stay tuned!


	4. SOKKA I

SOKKA

"OKAY," HE SAID, PINCHING THE BRIDGE OF HIS NOSE, "LET'S SLOW DOWN A BIT, AND TRY THIS AGAIN."

The ground rumbled again, and somewhere, something exploded. Out on the ground before the causeway, trumpets continued to blow, though he could barely hear them over the Air Nomads' horns and gongs. It was a cacophony unlike any he'd ever heard, and it was driving him insane.

Azula shook her head, eyes focused on the boy. The kid couldn't have been older than thirteen or fourteen-years-old, which meant he _should _have been in one of the novices' barracks. That he wasn't, was what had caused him and Azula to stop and talk to him in the first place, even if it meant letting Suki and the rest of their _soldiers _(for lack of a better term) rush on towards whatever was boiling over the eastern cliffs. That, and the fact that the boy was plainly so terrified that he had passed beyond fear into a realm for which no language could _possibly _have a name.

He was also covered in blood, not a bit of which was his.

_Which sets all kinds of alarm bells ringing, _he thought, a shiver sizzling up and down his spine. _Something's gone horribly wrong, in the worst possible way…_

_ Heh…Korra's Law…_

He'd laugh if it was funny.

The kid was still babbling, tears pouring down his face, cutting tracks through the blood that was splattered across his face. Azula was still shaking her head, frowning, eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I don't know, Sokka," she said, "I really don't. I don't know if my Gorkhali is really that rusty, or if he's just not making sense. He keeps going on about the _demons, demons in the novices' barracks."_

Sokka sighed, reaching around and drawing his sword. "Well, there's only one solution for that, then, isn't there?"

Azula gave him a quick look, her lips pressed into a thin line that quirked up under her left eye. "Time for the men to go to work, eh?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fuck, no. I fully plan on hiding behind you and taking all the credit." He began to walk in what he vaguely remembered was the right direction. "Come on, let's do this."

Suddenly, the boy began to scream. He screamed and screamed, his words so cracked and so raw that they made Sokka flinch in sympathetic pain. Frowning, he turned back to Azula, who was desperately trying to get the boy to calm down enough to make sense. "What's he on about?" he asked.

She finally gave up in a huff, standing up and drawing her _katana _from where it was strapped across her back. "I haven't the faintest idea; I think he's hysterical. Just…" She heaved a heavy shrug. "Something about…_blood? _Demons making people dance and hurt each other, and how they're dressed in blue? Blood coming from eyes and noses and ears?" She rubbed the back of her neck with her free hand. "Like I said, it makes no…um…Sokka?"

Everything drifted away. He felt frozen, lost, alone. For a moment, he wasn't a seasoned warrior, in the middle of a battle that was going to hell with amazing swiftness. No, he was a little boy, sitting around a campfire, shivering in fear as the older boys told stories, stories about witches and sorcerers who practiced black magic and could make you do things against your will…

_And then he was a little older, on the terrifying day when his mother explained that the stories were all too real…_

He raised his left hand, balled it into a fist, extended the pinky and the forefinger. He passed the hand over his face, drawing the extended fingers over his eyes. He muttered an incantation as he did so, an incantation as old as time.

_To ward off the Evil Eye…_

"Azula," he said, in a voice he didn't recognize, "this is very, very important. I need you to run to the main square, and get Katara." She opened her mouth to argue, as he knew she would, but he stopped her with a look that he hoped told her everything she needed to know. "I'm not arguing about this. You need to get my sister, and tell her that there are bloodbenders loose in the eastern novices' barracks. And then, I need you two to get there post-fucking-haste, and save my ass before my own stupidity finally does me in. Can you do that?"

She nodded. She looked like she wanted to argue. He desperately wanted to know why she was holding back.

Something, buried in the back of his mind, told him it was important.

He opened his mouth, to say what, he didn't know, and he never got to find out. Before he could say so much as a word, she had wrapped her free hand around the back of his neck and then he was being pulled down into what was, quite possibly, the best kiss of his life.

_Complete with fireballs raining from the sky…_

_ Sweet…_

"Just remember," she said as she pulled away, gasping for breath like she'd just run a mile, "I expect to finish that sometime in the near future."

He tried on a stupid grin. The sparkle in her eyes told him that he'd achieved the desired look. "Got it."

She threw him a wink, and then she was gone.

That was the last nice thought he had for a while. Before she had gone five steps, he had turned towards the east and raced off, towards what, he couldn't quite know.

All he knew was that he had to be fast, be swift, be brave, be true, and remember that, among his people, there was only one penalty for those who bloodbent their fellow man.

And that was death.

* * *

Why is Sokka heading off? One, because he's an idiot, but mostly because he may never have faced a bloodbender, but he at least knows what they are, and has some idea of what they can do, and how to deal with them. Same thing with Katara, who has the added benefit of being a waterbender.

Plus, being Water Tribe, he would feel an automatic instinct to go and deal with this himself. He would take bloodbenders very personally.

Did everyone like the kiss, though? It was long past due.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we get a glimpse of what's going on, up in the air. Stay tuned!


	5. THE AIR RAIDER

THE AIR RAIDER

COMMANDER KUSUNOKI KIYOTAKA HADN'T THE FAINTEST IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON. He hadn't started out that way. He vividly remembered the majestic dive through the clouds, breaking into the open air and descending upon the temple. He remembered feeling his heart swell with pride and accomplishment as he watched the air bison-mounted hordes of the Air Nomads rise to the bait, at least a hundred of the beasts turning as one and rising to meet him. He had given the order to engage, the men had cheered, and then they were firing, raining fire and death upon the temple, hurling more fire and ballista bolts as long as a man was tall through the air towards their attackers.

Then, the Air Nomads were in their line and it all got hazy.

The world was shuddering, tilting to the side. The bridge was pure and utter chaos, men fighting with the controls as their airship listed heavily down and to the right. It was all he could do to keep his balance, prevent himself from sliding into the hard metal walls, like several others had done. He bellowed orders in a constant stream, his fist compulsively opening and closing on the hilt of his _katana. _Above it all, the world flashed red, everything bathed the color of blood, as the emergency lights clicked on and off and the alarm klaxons bellowed like the end of the world.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this. _That was all he could think, in that strange part of his mind that he always managed to detach from battle. _We are the Air Raiders, trained endlessly for one purpose, and one purpose alone: To finish the job that Fire Lord Sozin, gods rest his eternal soul, started, should the Air Nomads ever dare to openly defy us again. _With this mission in mind, Kusunoki had jumped at the opportunity when that arrogant prick Matsuura had offered it to him. Better that, than go over to the traitors and the mutineers; if he did that, he'd _never _get to use his training…

_Never get to-_

He never got to finish the thought. The windows of the bridge exploded, pieces of glass lashing at his face and sending his men rolling across the ground, clutching at arms and legs and stomachs, screaming with fear and pain. He blinked, looked around, unsure of how he ended up on his back, on the ground.

"Report!" he bellowed. He started to rise, extending an arm to push himself up. He cried out, pain slicing up his arm and into his brain as he slid back to the floor. He looked at the arm in question, saw a jagged piece of glass jutting out of his bicep. He growled, reached for the glass, screamed like a wounded animal as he pulled the glass from his skin. Blood began to flow from the wound, but he ignored it, just as he ignored the pain and the strange silence brought by the whistling of the wind through the shattered windows.

"Report!" he shouted once more. He pulled himself up onto his knees, clutching at his arm, his blood hot and sticky as it trickled between his fingers. He looked around, took in the shattered bridge, the soldiers, officers, _his men, _most of them down, some of them obviously dead. "Gods-damn it," he began again, his voice rising into a scream, "somebody give me a _fucking report!"_

That was when he noticed the man. The man was obviously an Air Nomad, dressed in their lightweight armor, one of those staffs that they carried dangling from his hand. Kusunoki took in the man, looked him up and down, and didn't know whether to laugh or be afraid. The man was in his fifties, _at least, _and had the air of every child's favorite uncle, the one who always gave them sweets, no matter how much the parents might object.

Kusunoki gaped. He didn't know what else to do.

"The fuck are you?" he croaked, not sure where the apprehension that was crawling up his spine had come from.

The man shook his head and sighed. "Commander," he said, speaking, to Kusunoki's surprise, pitch-perfect Nihongo, "this is the only chance I'm going to give you. Half your fleet is down, and the rest won't last much longer. Surrender and turn back, or suffer the consequences."

Kusunoki knew what to do then. Everything just kind of…_faded away, _and he experienced no fear or hesitation as he spit onto the floor. "We are men of the Fire Nation. We do not surrender."

The man sighed once more, and Kusunoki couldn't help but wonder why he looked so sad. "So be it." He lifted his staff, began to spin it around his hand.

Kusunoki had no idea what was going on, beyond the fact that the fear was back.

"When you meet your gods," the man said, "tell them that the Air Nomad Lobsang sent you, with his regrets."

Then the staff was swinging through the air, and the air seemed to turn into a knife rushing towards his throat, and Kusunoki knew no more.

* * *

Confession time: Half the reason I conceived and thus wrote this battle, was to share the mental image of a hundred or more air bison, loaded with Air Nomads, ducking and weaving and fighting a good dozen Fire Nation airships. I don't know about you, but that right there pretty much justifies this entire project.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Zuko and Toph get a breather, and then the enemy are coming again. Stay tuned!


	6. ZUKO I

ZUKO

IT WASN'T UNTIL AFTER THEY'D BEATEN OFF THE THIRD ASSAULT THAT HE GOT THE CHANCE TO TALK TO TOPH. For all that Zuko hated the sort of men who served in the kinds of units that were attacking them, units whose banners and names were as feared by those born of fire as those born of everything else, he could not fault their courage. Again and again they came, no matter how many he and his boys sent to the gods.

_But they can't keep coming forever. _He latched onto that thought, held it close, held it tight. He sank his teeth into the thought, drank its blood, absorbed its strength.

It was the only thing that kept him from looking north, at the temple.

If he did that, what little courage he had would vanish completely.

He found Toph sitting on a rock that she had bent into the form of a bench, puffing furiously on a cigarette she had no doubt bummed from one of the boys. On the surface, she seemed calm, serene, almost joyful, even. Everything she did supported this image, from the way she shamelessly swore blue streaks around hardened soldiers, to that moment, right before the second assault, when she had stepped from the line, rubbed her hands together, and bellowed, _"I hope you pussies are ready to see some motherfucking earthbending!"_

The boys had cheered, few more so than Zuko, but he couldn't help but wonder if he was the only one who saw through the façade. After all, he may not have known Toph all that well, but, the thing was…

_He knew all about being a soldier, and he knew the signs. _They were all there, writ plain as day. The way the cigarette trembled between her fingers, the vacant, slack-jawed expression on her face, even the way she quaffed from a waterskin someone had pressed into her hands.

He was suddenly very glad he had decided to come find her.

"Hey, you."

She didn't bother to look up at him, just continued staring off into the distance. It didn't escape him that she wasn't looking towards the temple, either. He wondered for a moment if that would matter, and decided that blindness, like sight, was probably a double-edged sword.

"Hey, yourself," she replied, exhaustion threaded through her words. He gave her a good once-over as he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. She was bathed in sweat, her hair a tattered mess that was plastered to her face. Near misses had singed her clothes, and for all her bluster, she looked like she was about to fall over. He found himself casting a glance down at himself, at the new nicks and scrapes on his armor, at the spots that had been blackened by his own near misses, remembered the blood he had just wiped from his _katana. We all look like hell. _"What's the news?" she asked.

He shrugged. "If the last assault was any indication, we've got about fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe more, maybe less, until the next one."

She scoffed, and there was pain and fear in the sound. "Those assholes just keep fucking coming, don't they?"

He shrugged, at a loss for anything else to do. "Well, they're kind of in the same boat as we are. Either they win, or they die. It's kind of their last hurrah, if you think about it."

She nodded, a savage grin on her face. "Sucks to be them, then."

He turned, as much away as was physically possible from the temple, narrowing his eye to look off into the distance. "You know," he said, sounding very casual and unconcerned, "I don't like how close we cut pulling you back for the last round. They almost got you."

She scoffed once more, stronger this time, less fear. He had challenged her skill, and she was rising to the bait. _And she probably knows I'm doing it, too. _"_Please. _I'd like to see them fucking _try. _I've got one hell of a kiss waiting for me when this all over, and I have every intention of collecting."

He couldn't help but smirk at that. "You and me, both. Still…why don't you sit this one out, gather your strength?"

She looked up, right at him, in that strange, slightly unnerving way of hers that he couldn't quite get used to. "Any chance I can go into the temple, help our people out?"

He shook his head. "I can't order you to do or not do anything, but if we don't hold them here, our friends won't stand a chance."

"Right then." She tossed her cigarette away, grinding it into the once pristine snow that was now shredded and melted and mixed with mud. "In that case, I think I'll spend another round kicking ass right here, if you don't mind."

He smiled. "I don't mind at all."

He was about to head back to his men when the sound of a cleared throat caught him up short. He stopped, turned on his heel, found Toph almost underneath him, hand out, an annoyed expression on her face. He rolled his eye and, without another word, pulled three cigarettes from his pack, dropped two into her hand, lit one and stuck it in her mouth, and then, and only then, did she let him leave.

When the fourth assault came, not ten minutes later, it charged right into a wall of fire and earth, and went down to defeat to the sound of a petite teenage girl who screamed, _"Come on, come and get some!" _before she began to move.

* * *

Something I'm going to be working at very carefully in this final book is to not be repetitive. I'm doing my best to keep pushing my boundaries, find new and interesting ways to do things. I'm sure I'll fail as often as I succeed, but you can't win if you don't try, can you?

Which is a convoluted way of explaining why we won't spend much time on this particular part of the battlefield. It's not that interesting of a fight; Zuko and his boys, aided by Toph, have to hold. Sure, things are fucked up in the temple proper, but if the Ninety-Fourth can't hold the line, it doesn't matter how bad things get behind them, will it?

Plus, I already did a whole chapter on Zuko and his boys holding a line while under assault. No need to be repetitive, you know?

So, that's all for today! You got your five chapters, and now I have to get cracking on everything I didn't get done today, because I was curled up feeling sorry for myself. Plus, the wife and I are trying to finish _The Imitation Game, _which we passed out in the middle of last night, because we're basically an old married couple at twenty-seven.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Tarrlok finally gets what he wants. Stay tuned!

PS - Any of you guys ever hang out on TVTropes? Because they have this whole _FanFic Recommendation _page, including one for ATLA, and, well...I'd _really _love to get on there. One of you guys has to recommend me, though. Pretty please? *looks cute*


	7. TARRLOK

TARRLOK

HE STILL REMEMBERED WHEN MOTHER HAD COME. He had been eight, Noatak, eleven. She had strode like a god out of a brutal blizzard, tall and proud and beautiful, even after the ravages of a life of suffering had taken what they could out of her. Father had been lonely, accepted her with open arms, not least because she brought several bottles of cheap booze, the kind Father liked. Father had gotten drunk, just like he always did at night, and the sounds from the bedroom had kept Tarrlok and his brother up all night. Then, come morning, he had awoken to find Mother there, making breakfast. She had smiled, and even then, he had known there was something wrong with that smile, but he hadn't cared. She was making breakfast, _real food, _and she served him and his brother extra portions, pinched their cheeks, and told them that she was their mother now.

That, he felt, was the last time he had ever actually had something approximating an emotion. He had felt…

_He had felt…_

He shook his head. He couldn't remember. It didn't matter, really, though, did it? Emotions just got in the way. They made him think, and whenever he tried to think, he got scared and weepy and wanted to run away. His head would hurt and his mouth would go dry, and Noatak would get frustrated with him, and that would just make it worse. So he pushed the memory of emotion aside, and just watched the life drain from the eyes of the old woman on the ground before him as he crushed her heart in her chest.

He didn't know how long they had been in the building, how long it had been since they had begun painting the walls red. He wanted to leave, wanted to go back to the tent and have dinner and not think about it. But no, Mother said they couldn't, not until the job was done. He hadn't asked what job, because he didn't care. It was the _job, _and Mother would tell him when it was over.

Somewhere in the depths of the building, peeling out over the screams and the sobbing and the begging for mercy in a language he didn't pretend to understand, he heard his brother laughing. Noatak always laughed when they did the things Mother told them to do; it was just his way. He laughed and he laughed and he laughed, and the things he did, he did with gusto, enthusiasm, _imagination. _He was almost as imaginative as Mother.

_Almost…_

Tarrlok didn't go in for all of that. He just moved, not saying a word, barely making a sound, from room-to-room, crushing their hearts in their chests. His face held no expression, and he felt not a thing.

He didn't even feel fear, or the slightest bit of apprehension, when he heard the sound. He was in the hallway, moving from one room to the next, mechanically following the sound of weeping and what sounded like children pleading to the gods. It was dark, and cold, and the earth shook and quaked, and every once in a while, explosions rattled the walls and sent bursts of light flashing through the windows. It was right after one of these explosions that he heard it, a strange _whoosh-whoosh-whoosh, _as if something was flying, end-over-end, through the air. His curiosity aroused, he turned, just in time for the boomerang to come flying out of the darkness and into his chest.

He felt no pain as he fell, no pain, no regret, no sadness. Even when the young Water Tribe boy with his painted face loomed over him, made the sign to ward off the Evil Eye over his face, and pulled the boomerang from Tarrlok's chest, he felt nothing. He watched, the life draining out of him with every beat of his heart, as the young man drew a knife, the blade catching a glimmer of light as it flashed for his neck.

His last thought was one word.

_Finally._

He had no fear as the darkness took him. He even smiled, which made sense.

After all, he had known the darkness for a very, very long time.

* * *

Fun Fact: Even at his worst in LOK, I never hated Tarrlok. I guess I just have a...well...let's just call it a _soft spot _for people like that, people who get trapped into a dark place because they don't think they have anywhere else to go.

We all end up paying for the sins of those who came before us, don't we?

Also, Kaelyn, I know, right? But at least he's aware, and he's going about his idiotic course of action quite intelligently.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Katara has to talk some sense into Korra, right before she gets the word. Stay tuned!


	8. KATARA I

KATARA

KORRA WAS ALMOST OUT THE DOOR BEFORE KATARA CAUGHT HER. Katara was bent over a young Air Nomad man, who had a huge gash across his torso and burns on one side of his face and down his side. Blood was everywhere, and he was thrashing around so much that Katara had to wave Ty Lee over to help her out. He was covered in sweat and his face was pale and it was all Katara and Ty Lee could do to just get him calm enough so Katara could get to work.

Then she looked up and saw Korra making for the door, and Katara couldn't quite stop herself from swearing a blue streak in her tribal dialect.

Ty Lee giggled, a sound which, somehow, didn't feel out of place. "Whatever that was," she said in Nihongo, "it didn't sound pleasant."

"No," Katara replied in the same language, "it wasn't." She sighed, and stood up. "Put pressure on the gash, and try not to touch any of the burned areas. I'll be right back, after I stop our _last and best hope _from running off and doing something stupid."

Ty Lee's face broke into that special smile that only she seemed capable of, no matter the situation. "Got it." Without another word, Katara was off, looking back only once to see what the girl was doing. Her heart almost broke as she watched Ty Lee press a bandage down on the boy's slashed torso, while, with her other arm, she cradled his head and began singing a lullaby, smiling her beautiful smile the whole time.

_That girl… _Katara sighed, shook her head, and broke into a run.

They were in the main hall of the temple, where the final reserve was being held in place, along with the temple's senior elders. The main entry hall had been turned into a makeshift hospital, and only an hour into the battle (_or was it more? Less? Katara honestly didn't know; she had long since completely lost track of time_), it was already on its way to overflowing. The wounded were pouring in from all over, Fire Nation boys from the Ninety-Fourth out before the causeway, Air Nomads from the eastern cliffs or flown in from the sky, a smattering of Earth Kingdom from the refugees who hid here.

_All that's missing is a little bit of blue, _she thought. She tried not to look down at her light traditional armor at that. She was, after all, covered in blood, red smeared and splattered up and down her body and dripping from her hands. The _bit of blue _wouldn't be coming from her.

Korra was just about to slip through the doors, which were being held open by just a few feet, when Katara reached out and clamped the girl's arm in a viselike grip. Ignoring Korra's cry of pain, Katara spun her around, getting so far in the girl's face that their noses were almost touching. Reaching deep into her heart, she pulled up feelings of rage and anger that she didn't at all feel and hurled them into Korra's face.

"And just," she snarled, "where the hell do you think _you're _going, _young lady_?"

Korra blinked, her expression for a moment blank and full of fear, before she blinked and recovered herself. Her face twisted into a glare, and she made a futile attempt to free herself from Katara's grasp before snarling right back.

"I'm going out there." She spit the words, and Katara didn't blame her one bit. "Our friends are fighting and _dying _out there, and you really expect me to stay in _here?!"_

Katara wanted to give in, she really did. Korra was right, as only a teenager could be in stressful times. _Still, there's right and then there's __**right, **__and that's just the way it is._

_ I do what I have to do._

"And how the hell do you think _I _feel, Korra?" she snapped. "My brother's out there, my sister-in-law, _my husband. _Or did that little detail escape you?"

Korra's expression flickered, but held firm. Katara really didn't want to feel proud, but she did, and hoped with all her heart that it didn't show.

"That's _all _I'm thinking of," Korra growled, fury seething in her eyes. "If you're my Mom, that makes Zuko my Dad, and we won't even get into Toph. So, _yeah, _I'm going out there."

"No," Katara replied, "you're _not. _None of this will matter, if you get yourself killed. You're the final reserve, our last ace in the hole. Remember: They're here for _you. _Let them try to come and get you, don't go out there to them. That's what they want." She leaned in, poured her heart and soul, her very _being, _into her closing argument. "_That's what they're counting on. _They think you're still some immature little girl, drunk on her own power, not listening to anyone." She turned her head, hardened her gaze, and twisted the knife. "I think they're wrong. Do you?"

For a moment, Katara didn't know how Korra would react. The girl stiffened, and her face went red with fury. If she really wanted to, she could free herself from Katara's grasp in an instant. She could be out the door and into the gray before Katara could so much as _blink. _

All Katara had, was her love, her respect, her pride, and all she could hope for was that the daughter of her soul could see that.

Korra did. She huffed, then wilted, her shoulders slumping as she gave a slow, sad nod. "You're right, Mom. I guess I just…_yeah…_"

Katara released her grip, giving her fingers a quick flex to work out the stiffness. "It's okay, I understand. _Trust me, _I really do. Now, if you don't mind, I need a waterbender in here. You remember everything I taught you?"

Korra tried on her most confidant smile, showing to Katara just how much time she'd been spending around Toph. "Of course I do."

Katara finally allowed herself to smile. "Good, because-"

Where Azula had come from, Katara would never really know. One second, the doorway was clear, and then, the former princess was there, disheveled, out-of-breath, covered in sweat, gasping for air. Katara gaped, eyes wide with surprise, but before she could say anything, Azula was spitting out her message in between gasps.

"_Sokka says...there are…__**bloodbenders**__…in the…eastern…novice…barracks…he said…come get you…we have to hurry…something stupid…you know him…you get any…of…that?!"_

Katara's blood ran cold. Without even thinking, she lifted up her left hand and made the sign to ward off the Evil Eye, and beside her, Korra did the same.

_Yeah, _she thought. _I got that. I know __**exactly **__what bloodbenders are._

_ And I know __**exactly **__what to do with them._

She acted without hesitation. She rounded on Korra, grabbed her by the arms, gave her a shake. "You, stay here. Do _not _leave the building, am I clear? No matter what you may be feeling, if there're bloodbenders on the loose, you need to say _here_. It's probably just another part of their plan to draw you out. I'll be back as soon as I can, but remember: Make _them _come to _you. _Don't let them get you on ground that _they _chose. Do I make myself clear?"

Katara felt it was revealing that Korra didn't argue. She just nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Katara turned back to Azula, snatching a dirty towel from the floor and doing her best to clean her hands. "Let's go."

They ran.

* * *

And that, at the end of the day, is what sucks about being the supporting character in someone else's journey: You're expendable. _They're not. _

And if you think something smells fishy, you'd probably be on to something.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Asami's kind of frustrated, and Mako's pretty much checked out. Stay tuned!


	9. ASAMI I

ASAMI

"THIS FUCKING _SUCKS._" Her appraisal of the situation thus made open and explicit, Asami put the bottle of something that she couldn't even _begin _to identify to her lips, tilted it back, and took a gulp that practically sizzled its way down her throat before it exploded in her stomach. Her head swam, her vision momentarily clouding as the world danced and spun before her eyes. A sharp pain lanced from one temple to the other, a pain she ignored as she handed the bottle over to Mako and took a deep drag from her cigarette.

They had been huddled on the floor of the tavern (_the existence of which she was still trying to come to terms with, since it shattered everything she had thought she'd known about the Air Nomads_), backs to the outside wall, for longer than she cared to think about. For all intents and purposes, time had lost even the remote semblance of a meaning for her. All she knew was that she was sitting on the floor, back to a wall, next to a boy who still looked like death warmed over, while outside, the only real friend she had left fought to save people she had never really even known existed.

_And all I can do, is sit here, and try not to get in the way…_

She huffed, and felt no shame that the action was depressingly similar to that of a spoiled five-year-old. All she wanted to do was get out there, but she couldn't, could she? What was it Ty had said?

_This is war, Asami. I'm sorry, but until you know what you're doing, you don't belong in the middle of it. At best, you'll get yourself killed; at worst, someone else._

She sighed, sinking further down into her shame. Ty Lee was right, of course, though that didn't mean that Asami had to like it.

"What do you mean?"

She blinked, turning on the boy slumped down next to her, eyes wide with shock. The words Mako had just spoken came as a bit of a surprise to her, and it had nothing to do with the strangled, cracked, emotionally-dead voice they had been uttered in.

The simple fact was that, after at least an hour of her ranting in such a way that even she wasn't sure what she'd been saying, those were the first words he had spoken to her since she found him the night before, out in the snow.

So, between her surprise and the fact that a muffled explosion crumped suddenly in the distance, sending a shiver through the ground and into her very bones, it took her a moment to reply.

"What do you mean…_what do I mean?_" She frowned at her choice of words, and decided she didn't care. The streets were running with blood and the world was on fire; who cared how she chose to phrase things?

He shrugged, taking a gulp from the bottle before passing it back. "I dunno. I guess I was wondering why you think this sucks."

Everything snapped into focus within the blink of an eye. Another explosion came, close enough to rattle the windows and send stray bits of dirt dancing across the worn wooden floor, but she paid it no mind. Her world narrowed down to a point, there, in the distance, anger and frustration and fear and shame all crashing together until she thought she would burst from within.

Mako was very lucky Sato Asami couldn't bend fire.

"Why?" She spoke through gritted teeth, in a voice she didn't recognize, but that she liked, very much. "What do you mean, _why? _Because I want to fucking _do something! _I've spent my entire gods-damn life with my head in the sand, not even knowing that it was there, wearing blinders I couldn't even see, and now my eyes are open and the world is in front of me and I can't do a _**gods-damn fucking THING.**_" She took a gulp from the bottle, but didn't pass it back; she didn't feel the boy named Mako deserved it. _Go get your own fucking bottle, _that new voice snarled within her heart. She slumped down even more, pulling her feet up until her knees were more-or-less level with her chin. "And I fucking _can't. _The closest I've ever been to a sword was the _tanto _they used to teach us how to commit _jigaki _with at the Girls' Academy. All I can do is sit here, and wait, and pray to gods I don't even really believe in."

_And I'm stuck here in a deserted tavern, the walls rattling and shaking, with a trained soldier too broken to so much as lift a finger. _She didn't say it, but she felt it. She put her whole heart and soul into it.

Somehow, he seemed to feel the force of her frustration. He flinched, as if struck, before pulling himself up and walking calmly over to the bar, where he leaned over and snatched another bottle of _something, _smashed the neck off with a strike on the bar's edge, and poured liquor down his throat like it was pouring out of a fountain.

She waited until he was done before she spoke again. Her words cracking like a whip, she let the back of her head _thump _against the wall as she asked, "So, what's your excuse?"

He shrugged, looking down into the already half-empty bottle. "Honestly? I don't have one. I just…" He shook his head, and his voice took on a tremble that she didn't know quite what to make of. "I just…I just want to go home, okay? I want to go home, find my brother, hug him, let him know how sorry I am, how he was right all along. And then I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to him. That's…" He paused, his words seeming to catch on something in his throat. He closed his eyes, and a tear spilled out and went trailing down his cheek. "That's the sum total of everything I want out of life right now. And even then…if I didn't get even that much? I think I'd be okay with that…I mean…" He turned to her, his eyes open and glistening, a lopsided grin on his face that broke her heart. "That's pretty much what I deserve, right?"

She couldn't think of a single thing to say. All she could do was take another drink and try to smile back.

She was prepared for a lot of things, but not for his grin to widen and a strange, vaguely unsettling chuckle to trickle out of his mouth. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to what remained of his bottle, reaching up to run his hand through his hair. "Heh…look at me, still not really thinking things through…Kojima would be proud…"

She frowned at that, completely lost. "You know, I've been meaning to ask…just who the hell is _Kojima? _Everyone seems to know but me."

"Heh…just a guy, it doesn't really matter, at the end of the day…" He chuckled once more, leaning back against the bar. "You know-"

She never did get to find out what he was going to say. Halfway through the word _know, _the door exploded off its hinges. Somebody screamed, somebody who sounded a lot like her, but she would never be sure. At some point, she had dropped her bottle, covering her face with her crossed forearms, protection she lowered to find the absolute last thing she ever wanted to see.

There, standing just inside the tavern, were about a half-dozen men, dressed in armor that rippled scarlet-and-black, blood dripping from drawn _katanas…_

_ And they were looking at her like a starving man looks at a pig-chicken on a spit…_

And yet, she couldn't quite bring herself to be frightened. The best she could manage was a vague feeling of annoyance.

Anything else seemed rather pointless.

* * *

Well, shit. This should be interesting.

For those playing the home game, I must've re-written this goddamn chapter at least a dozen fucking times. It was killing me. Shit, this whole first part of the book was killing me, and, to be honest, I'm still not a hundred-percent happy with it.

You guys seem to be enjoying it, though, so I've got that going for me.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Sokka gets into a bit of a sticky situation. Stay tuned!


	10. SOKKA II

SOKKA

THERE WAS A MOMENT WHEN HE ALMOST BROKE. He had just stepped from the shadows, crouching down next to the man he had just killed to pull his boomerang from the still warm corpse's chest. He wiped the weapon clean on the man's clothes, biting down on the rage and horror that was clawing its way up his own throat. He stood, settling the boomerang back into its sheathe across his back, and then he heard the sound.

_The sound of someone whimpering…_

He turned. He hadn't realized, until that moment, that he was standing in front of an open door. He looked into the room, peered through the gloom, into the darkness that danced and swirled with the weak winter light that filtered in through the window. There was a sound, the loud _crump _of an explosion, somewhere outside, and the building shuddered like a dying beast. The tremor ran through the floor, rattled the walls, sent shivers running up and down his spine.

There were children in that room, huddled on the floor, how many he couldn't tell. They were in a heap, all tangled up with each other, faces wet with tears, and their eyes…

_Their eyes were dead and blank with terror…_

For a moment, he couldn't move. It came crashing down upon him, everything he had seen since he had slipped in through a window, everything he had survived, the hell of a world he had somehow battered his way through. It was all there before him, the blood, the suffering, the death, the heartbreak…

_The halls of this building, splattered with blood…_

_ The bodies in grotesque shapes and positions…_

_ The screams, echoing down the halls…_

_ Children, terrified of anything wearing blue…_

That's when he heard the voice. It was nothing human, a wordless, strangled bellow of rage and pain and fury. He turned, just in time to catch the full force and power of a man easily as big and strong as he was, if not more so. He would never fully understand what happened. He was on his back, two impossibly strong hands wrapped around his neck. The world went red, white, stars popping and exploding in his eyes. His head swam, his vision clouded, he was reaching, reaching for something, his sword, _the sword, it's somewhere, if I can just get to it_, but he couldn't, it had been knocked out of his hand by the force of hitting the floor. The man was screaming, and Sokka couldn't make heads-or-tails of it, not that he cared. He couldn't afford to care, couldn't afford to think. This was it, this was everything he had been trained for since birth.

_Him or me._

_ Him…_

_ Or…_

_ Me…_

He struck out, wildly. His fist crashed into the man's face, hard enough to send pain slicing up Sokka's arm and lancing into his brain like a hot knife. He ignored it, pushed through the pain, hit the man again, smashed his fists into that inhuman face, over and over and over. The grip on his throat slackened, not much, but it was there. _It was enough. _Sokka didn't stop to consider his actions; the time for that was past. He jammed his knee into his attacker's gut, and the man bellowed like a wounded animal, his grip finally letting go. Sokka hit him again, gasping for breath as he rolled to the side. In one movement, he reached into his boot, pulled out his knife, and when the man lunged for him again, Sokka, warrior son of the Southern Water Tribes, leapt to meet him.

It ended as soon as it began. There was no glory, no pride, no elation in victory. No songs would be sung of this fight, no children would be inspired by the tale. The only children to know of it were too traumatized and frightened to notice, too young to understand what they were seeing. All there was, was Sokka, and the man, fumbling, hitting, biting, slashing, jabbing, stabbing, stabbing, _stabbing…_

The man was on the ground. Sokka was over him, his hand on the man's throat, his knife in his hand, the hand that drove the knife down, again and again and _again. _

Sokka didn't stop until the man was well and truly dead.

He didn't look back into the room, didn't look at the walls, didn't try to peer into the gloom. Someone was screaming, somewhere, begging for mercy in a language he didn't understand. He had to move quickly, move fast. He had to end this.

He wasn't going to let anyone else die.

He wiped his knife clean, sheathed it, found his sword, clutched it in his right hand, and set off. He didn't look back, only forward, as he slipped into the shadows, moving silently in the direction of the screams.

* * *

_Damn. _Say what you will about Sokka, but when shit gets real, so does he. That was always a very important quality of his, one that gets over-looked in a lot of stories.

He's still being a massive fucking idiot, though. Still, they do say that God has a special place in His heart for fools...

You know...the more I re-read and edit, the more I'm liking how I did this. This story always has been about the characters trapped in it, more than anything else. It's fitting that we see bits and pieces of this horrid battle through the eyes of the characters we've followed for so long.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we see the last person we want to see. Stay tuned!


	11. JIRO I

JIRO

HE ALMOST CALLED IT OFF, CAME SO CLOSE, HE STARTLED HIMSELF A BIT. He had been crouching in the shadows of the alley, his men huddled around him, fifty of the most brutal excuses for humanity who had ever put on a uniform. He had specially selected them, each and every one, even managed to hide it from Kojima. The plan was working perfectly, or near enough as made no difference. Sure, from what he could see, the Air Nomads appeared to be much better at aerial combat than he had expected, but the air attack had always been a diversion, in the end. Everything was a diversion. Even that attack out on the causeway was a diversion.

_Like I would rely on a unit like the Ninety-Fourth ever giving way? __**Please. **_

He had even controlled for Kojima…_maybe. _He couldn't quite shake that doubt, and the longer he waited, the longer he hid, the longer he nervously scanned the skies, listened to the sounds of battle along the eastern cliffs move away, as if his men were losing ground, the more he worried. Had he waited too long with Kojima? How much had Kojima guessed? Why had he gone along so willingly?

_Why wasn't that bitch of a waterbender rushing out of the temple right now?_

And then he saw Azula race into the building. She ran up, slipped through the heavy stone doors. He waited, he didn't know how long. What was going on? What was happening? _He didn't know. _He didn't like that. He accepted it, because this was war, but still…

_What if they know?_

_ What if they guess?_

_ What if Hama and her hideous __**sons **__have failed me?_

He couldn't know. All he could do was crouch, and wait, and-

_Yes!_

He watched his cousin exit the building, watched the woman dressed in blue, a spark of purple flashing from her throat, rush out, watched the two woman race off, running…

_Towards the east…_

_ I did it._

He smiled.

_See? Karma. All is as it was meant to be._

He drew his _katana, _raised it high. All around him, fifty more blades hissed from their scabbards.

_Do you feel it, Avatar? Do you feel it coming?_

His heart swelled with pride, nearly burst with joy.

_My moment has arrived, Avatar._

He waited until the princess and the woman in blue were gone, waited for a good ten minutes after that, _just to be sure, _and then he stood, pointed his _katana _at their target, and gave the command to charge.

_It's nothing personal, and, really, I'm sorry, but, the thing is…you're just in my way._

They charged.

Jiro let his men go first, though. He wasn't an idiot, after all.

* * *

Well, shit. Jiro is a real motherfucking bastard sometimes. Like, I honestly despise him. And it's not even like with Yoshihito, whom we all loved to hate. Jiro? _You just hate his ass. _

But I digress. Point is...I'm totally leaving you with that for the day. No joke; I am. Why? Because I'm cruel. Also, because I apparently outsmarted myself, and began writing this thing in five-chapter bursts. Cool, huh? Don't worry, though; my wife will totally punch me in the arm for this later. No, really; she even knows what's going to happen.

Moving on! In the next chapter, if all goes well, I'll make you hold your breath. Stay tuned!


	12. THE WITCH

THE WITCH

SHE HAD TO GIVE THE STUPID BOY CREDIT: HE ALMOST HAD HER. If she hadn't paused in her torment of the frail old woman before her, paused to look to the little girl who was pressed up against the wall, terrified beyond the capacity for words, paused to gloat, to tell the girl, _Don't worry, your turn is coming, _paused just long enough to see the little girl's eyes flick to a spot behind Hama, then flick back, well…

_He might have gotten me._

_ And wouldn't that have been a sight?_

But she saw the flick, saw those eyes light up with something other than terror, realized in a flash that she hadn't heard from Yakone's idiot whelps in, well, _a bit too long, really, when one thought about it, _and she moved far faster than someone her age could reasonably be expected to. In a flash, the arm she wasn't using on the old woman flashed out behind her. She reached out, stretched her consciousness into the darkness, felt the new blood, the new heartbeat. Her fingers danced, and that, well…_was that._

Slowly, savoring the moment, taking the time to watch the hope die on the little girl's face before she moved, she turned her head, shifted her body, and took in the boy who had tried to kill her.

He was Water Tribe, that much was obvious. Even without the blue armor and the boomerang he was raising to throw or the war-paint on his face, only an idiot could have missed that single, simple fact. He was Water Tribe, which meant that he knew _exactly _what Hama was.

She smiled, smiled broader and better than she had smiled in years.

_Good._

She shook her head from side-to-side, clucking like a grandmother who had just caught her favorite grandson with his hands in the cookie jar. "Tsk, tsk, _tsk,_" she said, heaving a disappointed sigh, "you almost had me there, now, didn't you?" The boy's mouth flapped, desperate to form words that would not come, words Hama strangled before they could be uttered. She examined his face very closely, watched the comprehension dawning in his eyes, realized that he was understanding every word she said, even though she was speaking in her tribal dialect. Realization blossomed in her heart. It felt good; it had been a long time since she had been surprised.

"My, my, you're Yuupik, aren't you?" She flicked a finger, made the boy's head bob up and down. A giggle tickled in the back of her throat. "And, unless I miss my guess, judging from those shoulders and that unmistakable nose, you're…ah! You're Kya's little boy, aren't you? I remember you. Sokka, right? You were there, just a tiny little thing, clutching your mother's hand while your father cast me out. You remember me, don't you?"

She loosened the control, just a fraction, just enough to let a word slip out, a word choked with pain and hate. It was like music to her ears.

"_Hama_," he choked, "_you're…Hama…"_

She let the giggle come, let it blossom and ring forth. "Yes, yes I am. Oh," she cooed, "this makes it _so _much better." She looked over the boy's shoulder, into the gloom and the darkness. "Let me guess: You already sent my boys to the gods."

He smirked. How he managed to do that, she didn't know, and felt a little bit of pride on the boy's behalf. "_Well…I was going to…" _A gasp, and then, "_I was going to invite…them to tea, but…heh…they didn't seem to be…ugh…fans…"_

She laughed. "A snarker? _I like that. _Makes things _oh so much more _enjoyable." She tilted her head towards the old woman, the old woman whose blood was already beginning to trickle out of her eyes and ears and nose. "Watch closely, because, trust me, when I'm done with you? _You'll be rather envious."_

She closed her fist, and what became of the old woman, even Hama didn't really have words to describe. The best anyone could say would be that there was a lot of blood.

Which left only the chief's son, completely at her mercy.

She turned fully to him, tasting his fear, savoring this unexpected triumph. She made a mental note to thank that bastard Matsuura when she saw him; it really was nice of him to let her find out for herself. Her fingers danced, pulling a muscle here, pinching a vein there, watched the pain ripple through the boy's face, killed the screams in his throat. After a few minutes, she smiled, and opened his throat to let him speak.

"Anything to say, son of Hakoda?"

He spit, spit she effortlessly bent into a wall.

"_Go fuck yourself, witch,_" he snarled.

She clucked her tongue. "Oh, is that the best you can do?"

He smiled, and she had to give him quite a bit of credit; the smile was full of an impressive amount of bravado.

_"What can I say? I…fuck…I…ugh…left my book of quips in my…shit…gods…in my other pants…"_

She laughed, free and loud and full. "Oh, I like you. Not many manage to stay defiant to the end; most are pissing themselves in fear by now."

_"What…fuck…what…can I say? I'm…shit…stubborn…"_

She nodded. "Yes, you are. Ready to die?"

She gave him just enough control over his face to let him shoot her a glare. _"Get…fuck me…get it over with…you…__**bitch.**__"_

She giggled. "Oh, we've just begun, dear heart."

She made her fingers dance, except…

_What the…?_

Her fingers weren't moving. _Nothing _was moving. Her fingers, her muscles, her face…

What…

_What is happening to me?_

Pain boiled through her veins, crashed upon her senses. She fell to her knees, just as the boy fell to his, gasping for breath, clutching at life. She found herself turning, how, she didn't know. Her body twisted, her head swiveled, and there, stepping out of the darkness, came a young woman, dressed all in blue, with a painted face and eyes filled with fire and hate.

The young woman said only one word as her fingers danced.

"Burn."

And then another young woman stepped forth, a young woman with jet black hair and eyes golden like the sun. She moved and twisted and danced through the air, and Hama closed her eyes and smiled as she died in fire.

She couldn't even get mad, really.

She always knew she'd end this way.

* * *

Say what you will about me, but when I go for a Big Damn Hero moment, I don't do things by halves.

I'm feeling a bit under the weather this morning, so I'm going to go ahead and post first thing, make my wife her coffee and breakfast, then take a really long nap. Hopefully, that'll fix things, because I have a lot to do today and tomorrow (wife's twenty-seventh birthday is Friday, so you should all wish her a happy one, as well as congratulate her on being the same age as me for two months...as well as pity me, because I'm turning twenty-freaking-eight in June..._blergh_).

For those playing the home game...did Katara pick up the Idiot Ball for a few minutes there? Maybe...or maybe Jiro knew exactly what he was doing, and lunged for the girl's cultural blind spot. We all have those, and they're dangerous, because we don't even know they're there, until they kick us in the balls.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Mako finally thinks...or does he? Stay tuned!


	13. MAKO

MAKO

HOW HE ENDED UP STANDING BETWEEN THE MEN AND ASAMI, HE WOULD NEVER KNOW. In the end, he supposed it didn't matter. He was barely even able to recall where the men came from in the first place. There was the thing he was about to say to Asami, and then the door flew off its hinges, and the men, the leering, chuckling _things, _and a question, the question he should have been asking himself all along.

_What would my brother do?_

He blinked, and he had moved. He was standing in front of the men, savoring the heat as it flowed from his heart and began to burn in his fists.

"Leave, now." _Who is that man? I don't know that voice. It seems so far away… _"Leave, and never look back."

The men seemed to find this outrageously amusing. They burst into laughter, socking each other in the arm and slapping each other on the back. One of them stepped forward, a tall man, slim and graceful, with a lieutenant's piping on his collar.

"Torihada, right?" he said, in a polished accent that seemed far too urbane for the situation. It was so out of place, Mako almost giggled. "The one who that prick Kojima let run off? The fuck do you think you're doing?"

Mako sighed. He still didn't quite understand what was going on. There was a ringing in his ears. Every beat of his heart echoed in his skull, like a rock bouncing down the sides of a well. Nothing seemed real. It was like…

_Like I'm living in a dream…_

"What am I doing?" There was defiance in that voice, that voice he didn't recognize. At least…he _thought _it was defiance. He really couldn't be sure. It sounded so faint…

_So distant…_

"I'm doing something for a change." He smiled, why, he didn't know. "I'm _thinking. _Kojima would be proud."

The officer rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Look at yourself. You look half-dead and drunk; there's no way you can take all six of us. Just walk away, and you might just live through the day." The officer drew his _katana, _a movement mimicked by his five followers. "Seriously, you silly little half-breed dog, think about what you're doing."

Mako felt his smile grow wider; it might have even reached his eyes.

"You know what…I think I am."

He had incinerated the officer and one of the men before any of them quite knew what was happening.

He didn't really follow what happened next. It was a lot like watching a play in a language he didn't understand. He got the gist of it, followed the general ebb-and-flow of the action, but anything beyond that was more than he could comprehend. He watched himself, detached, very, very far away, as he hurled his fire, his essence, his soul. Another man was down, screaming, his face a ruin. There was a sword in Mako's back, but he didn't feel it go in. There was slashing and hacking and men screaming, one of whom sounded a lot like him. They all went down, one after the other, but they were right, weren't they? Mako was tired, worn out, half-dead already. They kept taking pieces out of him…

_They kept making him bleed…_

He was one the floor, on his knees. He kept trying to get up, but he couldn't. His fire sputtered and gutted out in his hands. It was very hot. His nostrils were filled with the scent of scorched flesh and fresh blood and burning wood. He kept blinking, but one of his eyes didn't seem to be working. He couldn't feel his legs. There was so much blood…

_Blood, life, leaking out of him…_

He looked up. A man was standing before him, the last man. The man's eye was crazed, the only eye remaining on the half of a face left to him. He cradled his right arm against his body, an arm wrapped in armor that was cracked and scorched. In his left hand was a _katana. _There seemed to be a lot of blood on it.

_Is that my blood? _Mako's head spun. He couldn't quite make heads-or-tails of it.

The man before him was gasping for breath. He kept trying to say something, but either the words wouldn't come, or his face was too burned for his mouth to work. Mako felt a strange urge to find out what the man wanted to tell him. Mako tried to ask him, but found his words dying, drowned in the blood that was dribbling out of his mouth and down his chin.

_Huh…imagine that…_

Mako's death raised its arm, the light from the flames rippling along the blood-splattered steel of the _katana. _Death bellowed, a wordless, inhuman scream, a scream that went on and on as a young woman appeared behind him and shoved a knife through the back of the man's neck, the blade erupting out of the front of his throat. The man blinked, swayed, his mouth working frantically as he tried to speak, before the life died in his eyes and he fell to the floor with a _thump _that made Mako want to laugh.

He couldn't laugh. It hurt too much.

It hurt so much that, when the girl wrapped her arms around him and began dragging him out into the street, he didn't argue. He couldn't. He needed his strength.

He had one more thing left to say.

* * *

In the beautiful, incredible comic series, _Saga, _the narrator, at one point, says that the advice "kill your darlings" is bullshit. What you should do instead, is kill everyone _but _your darlings, so that, when you get to the climax, only your darlings are left to you.

I'll leave that there for you to consider.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Azula and Katara really need to get a move on. Stay tuned!


	14. AZULA I

AZULA

THE HORRID OLD WOMAN WITH HER FATHER'S EYES WAS STILL BURNING WHEN SHE RUSHED FORWARD, JUST IN TIME TO CATCH SOKKA AS HE SLUMPED TO THE GROUND. Slowly, gently, she sank to her knees, carrying him down with her. Katara was there not a beat later, carefully grasping his face and rolling his head up until she could look in his eyes.

"How is he?" Azula asked, in a breathless tone she really didn't quite know what to do with, her heart so far up her own throat that it was about to jump out of her mouth.

Katara turned her brother's head first one way, then the other, shaking her head as relief flooded her face. "Well, he's still a huge fucking moron. Other than that, he'll be alright."

Azula's heart began to beat again just as Sokka laughed, a sound that came out more like a strangled wheeze fit for an old man with bad lungs. _"Heh…nice to see you, too, sis…"_

Without missing a beat, Katara slapped him, _hard, _first across one cheek, then across the other. Azula had to try very hard not to laugh; after all, were this her own brother, she would've done the same thing.

"Shut up," Katara snarled, "and let that be a lesson to you before you go charging into dark buildings full of people screaming."

His hand came up, his whole body trembling as he extended one shaky finger. _"Alone. You forgot that I did all that alone."_

Azula rolled her eyes. "Don't remind us. Are there any others?"

He smiled. _"There were." _He turned to her, a movement that largely consisted of him letting his head flop over until it rested against her chest. _"Though, I gotta admit, as stupid, ill-thought plans go, one that ends with my head on your boobs can't be all that bad…"_

Azula rolled her eyes, a low growl rumbling deep in the back of her throat, even as she gave him a tight squeeze and admitted (_only to herself, mind) _that he had a point. "You're lucky I like you."

_"Heh…aww…"_

Katara was already standing up, a determined look on her face, all signs of sisterly affection packed carefully away. "We need to get back to Korra. I don't like this."

Azula nodded, short and curt. "I was just thinking the same thing." To Sokka, she said, "Sorry, but you'll have to fend for yourself for a bit."

His shoulders heaved in a half-hearted attempt at one of his signature shrugs. _"Eh, I'll manage. I might even be able to stand in an hour or two._"

"Well," Azula said as she let him slide to the floor, "don't strain yourself." She wavered for a split second, unsure of what to do next. She had to get going, true, and with great haste, and her sister-in-law was standing _right there, _and Azula wasn't a fool, she knew everything she did right now would get back to Zuko, and he would tease her, and her face was hot and flushed and if she had said anything she was pretty sure she would've started stammering and-

_Oh, fuck it._

She leaned down, as fast as she could, and kissed Sokka softly on the lips. His eyes went wide and his sister squeaked in surprise, but before either of them could react, Azula had broken away, softly stroked his cheek, and begun running for the door.

Her and Katara were about half way back when they turned a corner and found themselves face-to-face with at least thirty soldiers, all in scarlet-and-black, in a place where such uniforms should not have been present. The soldiers seemed as surprised to see the girls as the girls were to see them, not that that helped the soldiers.

No, it didn't help them one bit. Without hesitation, Azula flashed Katara a quick smile, a smile that was just as quickly returned, and then, together, fire and water, the former princess and the chief's daughter began, very efficiently, very methodically, to tear the soldiers apart.

Even with that delay, they almost managed to make it back to Korra and Ty Lee in time.

_Almost._

* * *

I don't know about you, but now, I'm just starting to be mean.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Mako has one final thing to say. Stay tuned!


	15. ASAMI II

ASAMI

THE TAVERN ERUPTED INTO A BALL OF FLAME JUST AS SHE PULLED HIM INTO AN ALLEY ACROSS THE STREET. _Though_, she thought as she turned her eyes back to the flames, _maybe __**erupt **__isn't the word. _It was more like…_more like…_

She shook her head. _It doesn't matter. _If the past month or so of her life had taught her anything, is was how to figure out what was important, what was not.

The boy in her arms coughed, a strange, wet, sucking sound. She looked down, down at the boy who had saved her life. He was covered in blood, great red streams pouring from countless wounds and cuts and burns and slashes. Her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. Somewhere, a voice that sounded remarkably like her mother's burst into hysterics, screaming about the blood that now seemed to cover her from head-to-toe.

She strangled the voice before it got more than a sentence out. She just didn't have the time for such things any more.

Not since she had finally come to understand.

She held him close, held him tight, tore a strip of fabric from her clothes and began trying to wipe away the blood that was welling up from a horrific gash across his face. She smiled, why, she didn't know. She just smiled, smiled and blinked back her tears.

"Thank you," she said, her voice cracked and hoarse.

He smiled back, a smile that was grotesque beyond words.

_"I'm pretty sure I'm the one who should be thanking you…"_

She shook her head, heedless of the blood that clung to her hair as it brushed across his face and settled upon his chest.

"Enough of that. Just…hold on, okay? We'll get you some help. Everything's going to be alright."

He tried to reply, but couldn't; his words were lost in a coughing fit that sent blood splattering onto her face.

She didn't even blink. She would always be very proud of that.

_"It's…it's fine…better…this…Torihada. Torihada Bolin."_

She kept wiping off his face. She didn't know why; all she was doing was moving the blood around at that point.

"Who's that?"

_"My…my brother…find…find him…tell…he was right…should've…listened…very…sorry…" _He smiled, and her heart broke. _"Never even…got to…kiss…"_

And then he closed his eyes, his body shuddered from head-to-toe, and was still.

She couldn't think anymore; it was beyond her. The world came to pieces all around her, and she didn't hear a sound. She just pressed her forehead to his, and tried not to cry.

How long she was there before anyone found her, she didn't know. All she knew for sure, was that it was a very, very long time.

* * *

What was up with the ball of flame? They were in a tavern, and the fires that Mako set in his little fight hit the booze that no doubt lined the back wall behind the bar, and it all went up at once. So, what Asami was trying to think of was how it was less an explosion, and more a sudden _whoosh. _

What was that? That's not at all what you were thinking? Oh well!

Moving on! In the next chapter, Toph is Toph, and ends up being a bit quicker on the uptake. Stay tuned!


	16. TOPH I

TOPH

BY THE TIME THE ENEMY HAD FINALLY EXHAUSTED THEMSELVES AGAINST THE NINETY-FOURTH, TOPH BEI FONG HAD COME TO SEVERAL CONCLUSIONS. For example, she had decided that, while Zuko the dude was pretty cool, and Zuko the husband was adorably whipped, and Zuko the prince would probably be pretty boss, Zuko the Army officer was _way _too pushy. _I mean, come on, I wasn't pushing it __**that **__close on that last assault. I could've gone on in front of the line for at __**least **__another minute, two, tops. And so what if that guy was close enough to give me a wicked gash across the forehead? If Lord Sparky has proven anything, it's that scars are cool._

She had also decided that, while fighting was fun, battles fucking _sucked. _They were just too gods-damn _noisy. _She told him this, in language surrounding soldiers seemed to find hilariously profane, along with her opinion that, just because he was married to a woman who regarded herself as everyone's mother, didn't mean he had to become everyone's father.

To that, he just crossed his arms and shook his head, because of _course _he was doing that. He and Sugar Queen hadn't ended up together for _nothing._

"I'm…I'm honestly not even going to dignify that with a response. I mean, should I even bother pointing out that half your face is covered in blood?"

She shrugged, puffing on the cigarette she had made one of the nearby wounded light for her. "The fuck do I care? It's not like I can see it."

"Point…still, you're pretty much the regiment's official mascot at this point, so, you know, your welfare is pretty high up on my list of priorities."

She giggled. "Fuckin' _sweet. _Hey," she continued, turning her attention to the medic who was bandaging up her face, "make sure you leave the blood. I have a pair of panties to scare off once I get back." She frowned. "Speaking of…"

Zuko was way ahead of her, which she wasn't sure she liked. _Officer Zuko _was almost frighteningly competent. "As soon as everybody has a white bandana around their heads, I'm taking a battalion over the causeway."

She was about to ask about the bandanas, but then it clicked, so she didn't bother. _Right, so nobody mistakes them for the wrong kind of Fire Nation. Smart. _She was about to acknowledge Zuko's foresight when her heart froze in her chest.

She would never be able to describe what happened then, no matter how many times she tried. Maybe she had noticed everyone else's hearts stopped. It was possible that she had realized that the furious barking of orders, the rattle and clank of armor and weapons as the aforementioned battalion formed up and prepared to charge, the moaning of the wounded, had all come to a sudden and complete halt. There might have even been an unnatural tremor rippling through the ground, or an electric spark crackling through the air, or a strange sensation of all the oxygen being sucked from the world in one great whoosh.

Or it might have been none of that. Maybe she just _knew, _in some deep, instinctive way, through a connection she still didn't fully understand, that something had just gone terribly, horribly _wrong._

_ Korra._

She was halfway over the causeway before she even knew she had stood up.

* * *

And with that, I'm going to leave you right there. Why? Well, one, because that's five chapters, and two, _because I'm really mean. _If you don't know that by now, you haven't been paying attention.

Like I said, now it's time to make the wife breakfast, brew up her coffee for the day, kiss her goodbye, then go lay down. Because..._blergh._

Moving on! In the next chapter, Korra doesn't follow Katara's instructions, because of _course _she doesn't. Stay tuned!


	17. KORRA I

KORRA

HOW SHE CAUGHT THE MASSIVE STONE DOORS AS THEY WERE BLOWN OFF THEIR HINGES AND INTO THE HALL, SHE WOULD NEVER QUITE KNOW. She caught them, though, without even really thinking about it, caught them with massive cushions of air that she formed without even stopping to hesitate, caught them and bent them into the far walls, slamming them so hard into place that it would later take several teams of airbenders to so much as budge them.

Then she noticed the men hurling themselves through the doorway, weapons flashing in the air, screaming like mad beasts as they threw great spouts of fire before them.

She thought even less than before as she spun into the attack. The only thing she didn't bend was earth; a strange little voice, somewhere in the back of her head, told her not to do any more damage than necessary. Air, though, she used, air and water and fire. She tore into the attackers, burning and slicing and slashing. Her mind clicked into automatic, and the battle was over before it had even really begun.

How they ended up out in the central plaza, she really didn't know. They were there, though, her and Ty Lee, their attackers either dead or fled, their bodies scattered about, frozen or charred or hacked to pieces. She looked to Ty Lee, tried to laugh, an effect ruined by the sweat pouring down her own face, and the fact that she was gasping for breath. She did her best to strike a confident pose, why, Korra wasn't entirely sure. It just seemed like the thing to do.

"Well," she said, even as Katara's voice rang in her ears, it sounded like a warning, but she couldn't be sure, "that was easy."

Ty Lee smiled. Korra couldn't help but smile back. She really was a lovely girl, and with that smile? _I wish I could smile like that. _

Then the _katana _exploded through her chest.

There was blood, blood everywhere. Blood burst from the wound, bubbled out of Ty Lee's mouth, dripped onto the floor. Ty Lee blinked, looked down, and said only two words.

"Oh, my…"

Then the blade withdrew with a sickening sucking sound, and Ty Lee fell to the ground. Her face was pale, the life drained from her eyes. She smiled, one last, final time, tumbled down like a falling tree, and was gone.

Leaving in her place the most horrid monster Korra had ever seen, a monster who was already coming for her, fire bursting to life in his palm, blood sparkling along the blade of his _katana_.

Time stopped. Everything froze. The world came to a crashing halt.

There were voices, voices everywhere. Some she knew, some she didn't. Roku was there, and Kyoshi, Yangchen, Kuruk, and on and on and on. Over and over they pleaded, begging her to stop, to think. She was too close to the seventh _chakra, _they said. It was too dangerous, too risky. If she let go now, none could know the consequences. _Think of the world, _they begged. _Think of your duty. Think of your destiny._

_ This is not what the Avatar does._

_ This is not how an Avatar acts._

_ This is not an Avatar's duty._

Aang was there. He stood before her, his eyes filled with sadness, sadness and pain and heartache. He clasped his hands together, fell to his knees. _Please, Korra, listen to me. Don't listen to them. Don't repeat my mistake._

_ Don't do this._

_ Think of your destiny._

Korra didn't even have to think about it. She had only one thing to say.

"No."

Everything turned blue, and the world faded away.

Korra was gone.

The Avatar had come.

* * *

And with that, I'm pretty sure the Lady Kaelyn will now hate me. *awkward smile* Please don't...?

If it makes anyone feel better, my wife is very clear that I'm going to get punched, as soon as she reads this (since, of course, she knew it was going to happen). I pointed out that I got punched in the arm (as is wont to happen) when I told her the first time. With that, she informed me that I'm probably going to get a punch to the face.

Can't say I blame her.

Moving on! In the next chapter, a "Firefly" reference. Stay tuned!


	18. TWO BY TWO, EYES OF BLUE

TWO BY TWO, EYES OF BLUE

"SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK?"

Sonam blinked, all of a sudden feeling rather lost. Frowning, he turned away from the statue, leaning around the side to get a good look at his friend. "What was that?"

Dawa rolled his eyes and huffed. "You weren't even listening to me, were you?"

For a moment, Sonam thought about denying the charge. After all, among the novices at the Southern Air Temple, Dawa was his best friend, had been since they started school together. They even shared a bunk, Dawa on the top, Sonam curled in the bottom, as was their mutual preference. The absolute _last _thing Sonam wanted to do was piss off his friend.

_Still, it's true, and Master Tenzin _(that being, the novice master at the temple) _is always going on about the importance of being true to yourself and those around you, so…_

Sonam shrugged, hoping he looked appropriately apologetic. "Um…_not really…?_" He ran a hand over his shaved head, felt the bristle that was just beginning to grow back in. "I mean, sorry, buddy, I really am. I guess I just kind of…" He gave another confused sort of shrug. "Drifted off…?"

Dawa sighed, shaking his head. "Right, because scrubbing the ancient statue of an Avatar you can't even remember the name of is _so _much more interesting than dealing with your best friend's problems."

_Yeah, pretty much. _At least, that was what Sonam _wanted _to say. They were in the Temple's Hall of Avatars, where every Avatar got a statue when they passed into their next lives. It was the responsibility of the temple's novices, male or female, to maintain the hall after they reached fourteen, and in addition to general maintenance, once a month, Master Tenzin trooped them all in to scrub the place from top-to-bottom. It was tedious, boring, and exceedingly dull, the only bright spot being when one got to airbend one's self from one level to another. Even Master Tenzin got bored, as evidenced by the soft snores emanating from his traditional spot, down by the door, leaned back in a chair, legs stretched across the doorway to keep novices from sneaking off.

Yet, despite all of that, it was still more interesting to Sonam than listening to Dawa prattle on about his eternal on-again/off-again romance with Dohna, who was universally considered to be the prettiest among the girl novices. _Like I need one more reminder that the only reason girls talk to me is because they want to get closer to Dawa. _Sonam sighed and returned to his scrubbing. "Like I said, sorry, man, it happens, you know? But, let me guess, you were just complaining about Dohna again, right?"

Dawa cast furtive glances over each shoulder before leaning in, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Why don't you say that a little louder, Sonam? I don't think Master Tenzin heard you clearly enough."

Sonam tried not to laugh, he really did. "Like Master Tenzin cares."

Dawa huffed once more, dipping his brush in the bucket of soap, shaking off the excess, and getting back to scrubbing. "Come on, don't be like that. You know Master Tenzin hates me."

Sonam bit down on a giggle. _No, he just likes messing with you. _"Aw, come on, Master Tenzin doesn't _hate you. _And even if he did, it's not like you and Dohna are sneaking off into the bushes together."

"Oh…heh…yeah…of course not…"

Sonam rounded on his friend eyes wide. "Dude…_you are?!_"

Dawa shot him an ugly look. "Like I said, seriously, _could you be any louder?!"_

Sonam nodded, turning back to his work. His buddy's desire for quiet made _much _more sense now. "Dawa, old friend, you are…you are…hey, am I the only one seeing that?"

Dawa frowned. "Seeing what?"

Sonam pointed at the eyes of the statue between them. "That."

Dawa looked up, and gasped, making Sonam feel _much _better, because he had been on the verge of thinking he had lost his mind. There, in the depths of the statue of some centuries-dead Avatar whose name, as Dawa had pointed out, Sonam didn't even know, two little pinpricks of blue light were glowing. Before the startled eyes of the two friends, the points of light grew, imperceptibly at first, and then more and more, until they covered almost all of the eyes.

Sonam tugged at his ear. _And that ringing…_

On impulse, Sonam stepped back, looking up and down the row of statues. Sure enough, _all _of the eyes were glowing, and startled novices were stepping back, filling the hall with confused mutterings.

Sonam dropped his brush. Running to the railing, he leaned down, looking until he found the only adult in the place.

"Master Tenzin!" he shouted. Master Tenzin stirred, and Sonam shouted again, and again, until finally the novice master stood, looked up, an indulgent look on his face, as if he expected the usual, some novice trying a spur-of-the-moment plan to get out of work.

Then Master Tenzin's eyes went wide, his mouth dropped, and his face went pale.

Sonam had been confused, but not frightened. In that moment, that emotion changed.

Shuddering as if he was coming out of a dream, Master Tenzin reached over and grabbed one of the novices who was working on sweeping up the ground floor. Master Tenzin leaned over, said something to the girl (whom Sonam recognized as the aforementioned Dohna), and sent her racing out of the hall. Then, he turned back to everyone else.

"Listen to me very closely, young ones," he said, his voice shaking. "I need you all to step away from the statues, and come down to me."

Sonam was shaking his head, feeling very, very scared. "But…Master Tenzin…what does it mean?"

Master Tenzin closed his eyes. "Either something very good, or very bad, young man." He opened his eyes, reached up to clasp the prayer beads that hung around his neck, running his thumb across them. "Either way, the Avatar has come. Now, as I said, come down here, all of you, and wait with me for the elders."

That was exactly what they did.

* * *

I bet at first, some of you were all, "The hell?" I know I was, when I sat down this morning to edit this chapter. But it makes sense by the end.

In my mind, the eyes of all the Avatar statues glow the first time the current Avatar unlocks the full power of the Avatar State. So, as Master Tenzin (_hehyo!_) said, this could either be very good, _or very bad._

Also, how about that "Firefly" reference in the title?

But, like you guys care at this point! Let's get moving!

Moving on! In the next chapter, Katara's world goes blue. Stay tuned!


	19. KATARA II

KATARA

FOR ALL THE DAYS THAT REMAINED TO HER, KATARA WOULD TRY TO UNDERSTAND, TO PUT INTO WORDS, WHAT IT WAS SHE SAW. Her and Azula had just burst out onto the temple's main square, thirty soldiers dead or dying behind them. She wasn't thinking about the death; she had been in enough battles, enough fights, to know that she couldn't. Later would come the memories, the nightmares, the bitter aftertaste of lives snuffed out by her hand. For now, though, there was only the thrill of victory, of a battle that felt like it was going in their favor, the blood surging through her veins, the triumphant beat of her heart. Even winter was but a distant memory, her skin so warm it was tingling, sweat plastering Azula's hair to her forehead.

Then they stepped onto the square, just in time to watch the man she would later learn was Matsuura Jiro pull his _katana _from Ty Lee's back and advance on Korra.

It was like nothing Katara had ever experienced, more like one of those nightmares where you can't move than anything resembling real life. The world slowed, fell away. Azula's mouth was open, and a word that sounded a lot like _no _filled her ears, but it didn't sound like a word, rather, it sounded like a gong that had stuck in mid-ring, the air trembling with an eternal _thrum _that threatened to never end. Katara felt herself moving, but she couldn't be sure. Her legs were filled with sand, her arms made of stone. She pushed forward, as if she was fighting the very ocean itself, struggling against some sort of tidal surge. Her vision narrowed, became a tunnel, a tunnel that ignored everything and everyone except that man, and Korra.

She watched. _Faster. _She moved. _Must be faster. _She had to get to Korra. She had to stop Korra. What she was going to stop Korra from doing, she didn't know, and could never find the words to say. Even the mere thought of _how _she would stop Korra from doing something didn't even register as an actual thought in her mind.

She just knew that she had to get to Korra, and that she had to do something.

_Anything._

She was halfway there when the world turned blue. One moment, she was moving, and then, she was flying. A wall of pure energy struck her across the face, hurled her back, how far, she would never be sure. People were screaming, running, fleeing, falling to their knees. Katara felt like she could feel the very heartbeat of the world, pulsing in her ears, shuddering through her veins, throbbing in time with her heart.

Which was impossible. She was pretty sure her heart had stopped.

That day, that morning, in the heart of an ancient temple, while a desperate battle swirled around her, Katara saw the true might and majesty of the Avatar on full display. She thought she had seen it before, at least a dozen times, but on that day, she learned that what she had actually seen was mere child's play, a drop in the proverbial bucket of what the Avatar was capable of. She watched, spellbound, as something that wasn't really human anymore beat the man who had killed Ty Lee into a whimpering mess. Nothing, no one, could stand in its way. It was everywhere, moving almost faster than the eye could see. The soldiers who had come pouring over the eastern cliffs were slaughtered where they stood. The few remaining airships were knocked from the sky. Out beyond the causeway, the shattered cavalrymen took one look at what was happening, and ran.

Then, the Avatar returned to the square. It grabbed the man who had killed Ty Lee by the neck, shook him like a rag doll. It spoke in a voice that was a thousand voices and one, a voice that made Katara feel like her bones were being hollowed out and rattled like children's toys. Grasping the man by the throat, the Avatar rose into the sky, the man clutching at the hand, eyes wide with terror, feet kicking pointlessly in the air.

The Avatar rose, higher and higher, and then was gone.

The blue glow faded from the world. Katara blinked. She had never heard such silence in all her life.

Tears rolled down her face, one after the other.

She had never been so afraid.

* * *

In the final episode of the show, I honestly didn't feel _awe _when Aang unlocked the full power of the Avatar. Instead...well...I felt a bit..._scared. _I've been struggling to come to terms with what that kind of power would mean ever since.

If this fic is about anything, it's about that process. Let's face it: An Avatar, a fully realized Avatar, would be fucking _terrifying, _whether you were on its side or not. Because, at the end of the day, there is nothing quite as frightening as the idea of a human being with the power of a god.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Jiro, for the first time in his life, is scared. Stay tuned!


	20. JIRO II

JIRO

ONCE, WHEN MATSUURA JIRO WAS MERELY A FIRST-YEAR AT THE ACADEMY, MASTER PIANDAO HAD POSED A QUESTION TO THE CLASS. Master Piandao was a fan of philosophical quandaries, of thought experiments and the like. _The true swordsman hones his mind as he sharpens his blade, _he would say, in that deep, refined voice, as he ran his fingertips over his thin, precisely trimmed goatee. _The way of the sword is as much the way of the mind as it is anything else. He who fights with only his blade, ignoring his mind, deserves to wield neither._

The question had to do with what happened when the proverbial _unstoppable force _met the proverbial _immovable object. What would happen? _Master Piandao had asked. Every student had been required to submit a paper outlining their theory.

Jiro had spent barely an hour composing his paper. The answer seemed plain as day to him. If a force, no matter how powerful, met an object it could not master, then it was no longer _unstoppable. _Thus, the question was pointless. When he had presented this paper to Master Piandao, the old man (for Jiro had been at that age where anyone older than thirty was unfathomably ancient to him) had chuckled, shaken his head, and, without a word, torn the paper in two. Even then, as young as he was, Jiro had been self-aware enough to not show anger. He had merely bowed his head, and asked what he had done wrong.

Master Piandao's answer had been quick and to the point. _You missed the entire point of the exercise, young man. In time, you will understand what I mean. _From that day on, Jiro had thought of Master Piandao as a _strange old crank._

Until an ice cold winter day at the Northern Air Temple, when he had finally come to appreciate the lesson.

On that day, he learned that he was not the _unstoppable force. _No, the unstoppable force was, in fact, a sixteen, almost seventeen-year-old girl, whose eyes had flashed blue before she pummeled him senseless, slaughtered his army, took him by the neck, and flew him up into the air.

_And now it is speaking to me…_

It hurt, that voice. There were no words to truly describe it. It was as quiet as a mouse, and yet, loud enough to shatter ear drums, all at the same time. There seemed to be thousands of voices trembling within it, while being only one. It was like the end of the world, and the beginning, all at the same time.

_It was like speaking to the gods themselves…_

_ And those gods…_

_**They are very angry…**_

**"MATSUURA JIRO, OPEN YOUR EYES."**

He shook his head. He looked like a child refusing to take its medicine. He knew this, though it availed him not. He could no more open his eyes than he could slice his own throat.

**"MATSUURA JIRO, YOU WILL OPEN YOUR EYES, OR YOU WILL DIE."**

He opened his eyes. It was the hardest thing he ever did. He opened his eyes, and looked into two orbs deep and blue, all humanity gone, cold as hell itself.

How he didn't piss himself, he would never know.

**"MATSUURA JIRO, I KNOW YOU. I SEE YOU, SEE YOU FOR EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE. YOU, MATSUURA JIRO, ARE NOTHING. ONE MORE MONSTER. THERE HAVE BEEN PEOPLE LIKE YOU SINCE THE DAWN OF TIME, AND THERE WILL BE PEOPLE LIKE YOU UNTIL THE END. YOU ARE LESS THAN NOTHING, MATSUURA JIRO, A THUG, DOOMED TO BECOME LITTLE MORE THAN A STORY TO SCARE CHILDREN AT NIGHT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"**

He shook his head. He did not understand. He couldn't.

_This is not my karma…_

_ This is not my destiny…_

Even if it was, he was incapable of believing it.

Not that the Avatar cared.

**"VERY WELL. FOR YOUR CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY, I SHOULD EXACT THE ULTIMATE PRICE. I SHOULD LET YOU FALL. LOOK DOWN, MATSUURA JIRO. LOOK DOWN, AND SEE WHAT I SHOULD LET YOU BECOME."**

He looked down. His head swam, bile burned in the back of his throat. The mere fact that he didn't burst into terrified tears seemed a miracle.

_There are clouds…_

_ There are clouds under my __**feet!**_

He looked up. The Avatar smiled.

His blood ran cold.

**"NOW, MATSUURA JIRO, YOU UNDERSTAND. BUT, I WILL NOT LET YOU FALL. YOU WILL DO SOMETHING FOR ME. YOU WILL LIVE. YOU WILL GO TO THE FIRE LORD, AND YOU WILL TELL HIM TO MEET ME BEFORE THE WALLS OF BA SING SE, THE WALLS HE TORE DOWN. HE WILL KNOW THE PLACE. I WILL MEET HIM THERE, JUST HIM AND ME, AND WE WILL DETERMINE THE FATE OF THE WORLD. THEN, YOU WILL GO OUT INTO THE WORLD, AND SPEND THE REST OF YOUR MISERABLE LIFE KNOWING JUST HOW SMALL YOU REALLY ARE. NOD IF YOU UNDERSTAND."**

He nodded. He didn't understand, but he nodded.

The Avatar laughed, and kept laughing, long after it had flown down dropped him from a height of twenty feet into an endless expanse of snow.

He didn't dare to move until the blue was gone.

* * *

Why is the Avatar letting Jiro live? That's a good question. The best answer I can give is to point out that Korra isn't home right now; it's probably best to leave a message, and she'll get back to you when she can.

_If she can..._

Moving on! In the next chapter, if this is victory, Zuko really hopes he never knows defeat. Stay tuned!


	21. ZUKO II

ZUKO

HE FOUND HER SITTING ON A DOORSTEP, STARING OFF INTO SPACE. Her hair was in tatters, her Kyoshi uniform battered and streaked with blood and burn marks. Blood trickled from a nick on her cheek, and a bloody bandage was wrapped around her upper left arm. Her hands dangled limply between her knees, and her sword was propped against the wall beside her. Her eyes were blank, her face slack.

He sighed. It was a sight he had seen far too often in his short life.

_Once would be too much._

He settled down beside her, his armor creaking as he took out two cigarettes, lit them, passed one to her. She took it, began taking long, lazy drags from it.

He followed her lead, and waited. He had been here before, and no doubt would be here again.

Finally, she spoke. Her words were flat and empty, as blank as her eyes. "Hey, Zuko."

He closed his eye, leaning his head back against the wall. "Hey, Suki."

"Is it over?"

He nodded. "As much as it ever is."

He felt rather than saw her lift her head, turn it side-to-side. He knew what she would see, because he had just seen it himself. She would see the street stretching off in both directions, watch soldiers and civilians slowly, carefully, drag bodies out of the street, line them up along the sides. She would watch the blankets laid on the bodies, while people bore the wounded away. Smoke was still billowing from scattered points throughout the temple, and the air was thick with the stench of fire and death. She might even hear the wailing of families, of mothers and fathers and sons and daughters, brothers and sisters…

_Friends…_

"Did we win?"

He had to work very hard not to scoff. "Define _winning._"

He felt the shoulders slump. "Yeah…that's how I feel, too…what happened?"

He shrugged. "That's a good question; we're not entirely sure yet. We beat off the attack, and our enemies are either dead or fled. Beyond that…only the gods know."

"Oh…did we take any prisoners?"

He let the silence answer that. It had been a battle to the death, pure and simple. Their enemy had come offering no mercy, and had expected none. Even the ever peaceful Air Nomads had turned violent, bloodthirsty, and cold, once news of the massacre in the eastern novices' barracks had spread. In the end, it had been _kill or be killed, _and only one side had survived.

He wouldn't use the term _won. _If this was victory, he prayed that he never experienced defeat.

"Did Korra survive, at least?"

He opened his eye, cast it up at heavens shrouded by a thick, dark sheet of clouds. He breathed deep, tasted the coming snow on his tongue.

"That's the other thing we don't know," he answered. "Something…happened, in the temple square. She…went into the Avatar State, grabbed my monster of a cousin by the throat, and disappeared. We have no idea where she went."

"Oh…Katara must be losing her mind…"

He nodded. "No doubt, though you wouldn't know it. She's keeping herself busy with the wounded for the moment." He took a final puff from his cigarette, tossed it to the ground, stubbed it out with the heel of his boot. "Speaking of which…"

Suki nodded, mimicking his action. He stood, brushed himself off, and looked off into the distance. "They teach combat medicine down on Kyoshi?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, they do…"

"Katara could use all the help she could get, and, trust me, the last thing you want to do is sit here brooding…"

Suki closed her eyes, leaned back against the wall. "Yeah, you're probably right, but…I'm just going to sit here for a few more minutes, if you don't mind…"

He grimaced, but didn't argue with her. "Take all the time you need." With that, he turned on his heel, and began to walk towards the center of the temple.

"Zuko?"

He stopped, but didn't look back. "Yeah, Suki?"

"Who did we lose?"

He felt the tears tingle in his eye, but forced them back down. Some of his boys were moving about on this street, collecting the dead and wounded; it wouldn't do to cry where they could see him.

"That Mako kid died, protecting Asami. And Ty Lee; she didn't make it." He had to pause, take a deep, trembling breath, before pressing on. "Sokka barely made it; they had to carry him out of the novices' barracks. Toph has a fresh scar across her forehead, too."

"She'll like that."

He nodded. "Yes, she will, if Korra comes back."

He was a few steps further on before she spoke again.

"Zuko?"

"Yeah?"

"Does it ever get any easier?"

He answered without stopping.

"No."

He probably should have lied to her, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. She deserved better than that.

_We all do._

* * *

And now, the aftermath. Remember: This is Suki's first battle, while Zuko's been in too many to count. _Not that anyone would ever want to count a number like that._

For those playing the home game, I'm feeling a _little bit better, _which is part of why I'm posting early again today. I'm going to take another long nap, after I kiss my wife off to work and make her coffee, then I have a lot of errands to run. After all, spoiling one's wife rotten on her birthday takes time to set up. She does want to thank you guys for the birthday wishes she got, and I want to thank your wish that I get better, Lady Kaelyn, though I doubt you're feeling quite so charitable to me right now...heh...

Moving on! In the next chapter, which will probably come Saturday, since I'll busy tomorrow, we check in on the man we know only as "Kojima." Stay tuned!


	22. KOJIMA

"KOJIMA"

THE MAN SO MANY KNOW OF AS _KOJIMA _WAS SOUND ASLEEP WHEN IT HAPPENED. He was deep in a dreamless darkness, floating as if on a cloud, when the world turned blue and people began to scream. His eyes snapped open instantly, just in time to watch as the door to the little hut they were holding him in exploded into a mist of kindling. The ten guards who were in room with him stood, grabbing their weapons, fire springing into life in the palms of those who could bend. If he'd been a little more awake, he would've told them not to bother. Sure, they wouldn't have listened, but he would've tried.

As it was, they stood, and they died. Barely a minute after the world had begun to turn blue, he was alone, in a room, with only the Avatar.

The Avatar didn't speak, merely kicked the bodies of his guards out of the way as it water-whipped the chains from his wrists and ankles. Sighing with relief, he stood, rubbing his wrists as he bowed, low and deep at the waist. "And a good day to you, as well, Lady Avatar."

The Avatar's eyes narrowed. It looked vaguely confused, as much as something like that was capable of being confused.

**"YOU ARE THE ONE CALLED **_**KOJIMA**_**, CORRECT?"**

He winced. _Gods, the stories were right. That voice really is quite painful. _"That would be one of my names, Lady Avatar," he answered, as he got to his knees and began rummaging through the pockets of the men who had tried so valiantly and so competently to guard him. "Naturally," he continued, as he extracted a pack of cigarettes, pocketed it, and began searching for a book of matches, "a man such as myself has more than a few, but, to be honest, _Kojima _is as good as any other. Ah!"

The Avatar frowned. **"WHAT?"**

_So flat, so dull. Must the Avatar's Voice really be so devoid of emotion? _"Nothing," he said, pulling out the matches he had just found, striking one off the boot of the man he had found them on to light the cigarette he had just put in his mouth. "May I ask why you're here, my lady?"

**"I AM HERE FOR YOU, KOJIMA-SAN. THE WARNING YOU SENT THROUGH TORIHADA SAVED MANY LIVES. WHEN I REALIZED YOU WERE HERE, I DECIDED THAT FREEDOM WOULD BE THE LEAST I COULD DO."**

He nodded, carefully settling himself down on the packed dirt of the hut's floor. "Fair enough, I suppose. Still…I'm afraid I must decline."

**"WHAT?"**

He shrugged. "Trust me, my lady, if anyone deserves to die today, it is me. I never expected to survive this war, and always assumed that, at some point, I would pay for my many sins. My part in this little comedy is at an end; I have said my lines, and it is time to exit the stage. True," he acknowledged with a tilt of his head and a grimace, "I would rather the agent of my much deserved punishment were someone other than that little monster, Matsuura, but still, when the fall is all that remains, it matters not one bit who pushes you into the abyss."

The Avatar shook its head. **"I DON'T UNDERSTAND."**

He sighed. "No, you wouldn't, would you? Not like this, at least. You know…for some reason, this reminds me of Avatar Kobe. Do you know of Avatar Kobe?"

**"THE AVATAR OF FIRE, WHO PRECEDED AVATAR YANGCHEN."**

"Precisely." He took a long, deep drag from his cigarette, blew it up into the air. He concentrated on the sharp scent of the tobacco, filled his nostrils with it. After all, no matter how cold it was, he was still stuck in a room with ten dead men, and the smell would come eventually. "You see, it was during the time of Avatar Kobe when the _Sengoku Jidai _began. You know the _Sengoku Jidai? _Don't worry about answering, I assume that the Princess Azula has covered that at some point. Thing is…a coalition of Fire Nation citizens, made up mostly of lowly peasants and priests, went to Avatar Kobe and begged him to intervene. He refused. Do you know why?"

The Avatar nodded. **"THE AVATAR MUST REMAIN ABOVE INTERNAL QUARRELS, MUST ONLY CONCERN THEMSELVES WITH MAINTAINING THE BALANCE OF THE WORLD."**

He jabbed a finger in the air. "Precisely. The Avatar is the final arbiter, the ultimate judgment, quite literally a god on earth. All questions are eventually referred to them, all questions but the most important one."

The Avatar looked away. **"AND WHAT QUESTION IS THAT?"**

He chuckled. "Oh, my lady, I'm afraid you already know, or else, you wouldn't be here, now, would you?" He sighed, scooted himself across the floor until he was resting his head against the wall. "And now, my lady, I hope you understand why I will not be coming with you, and why I will not obey your commands."

The Avatar shot him a strange little smirk, the first sign of hope he had seen since his door had come off its hinges in a glow of blue. **"I DO."**

With that, the Avatar left him, and he sat, waiting, alone in peace and quiet, content in that, right up until the end of his life, he had never bowed to tyranny.

* * *

There's one hell of a lot going on here, but a lot of it won't really make sense for a good 20-30 chapters or so. Thus, this is definitely one of those moments when I'm going to have to ask you guys to have a little faith in me.

Meanwhile, for those playing the home game, good morning! I had a pretty fantabulous weekend, if I don't say so myself. Spoiled the wife on her birthday (which went amazingly well), spent Saturday lounging with the wife on the couch, watching Netflix (is anyone else addicted to "Good Eats," or is that just me and my wife?), and spent yesterday...well...being lazy again. All in all, an excellent weekend.

But enough about me. Moving on! In the next chapter, Asami is snapped out of a daze by the snow. Stay tuned!

Also, good morning!


	23. ASAMI III

ASAMI

IT WAS THE SNOW THAT BROUGHT HER OUT OF IT. Before that, everything between Mako dying in her arms and when the ice cold flakes struck her forehead and snapped her back into reality was nothing but a blur. The soldiers from the Ninety-Fourth who found her, the people who took Mako's body away, the long, slow walk through the temple, was shrouded in a thick, impenetrable fog, a mist that she could not see through, and did not want to. Then the snow settled onto her skin and the cold brushed against her soul, and she blinked and woke back up.

She was in the main square. She had no idea how she got there, and didn't particularly care. She looked around, took in the destruction, watched the teams of people carrying bodies away or helping the wounded inside. She felt blank, hollow, lost. She had never felt so alone.

Her eyes fell on two forms, huddled in the middle of the square. One was dressed in scarlet-and-black armor, the other in battered Air Nomad oranges and yellows, but they both had the same jet black hair, one in a sloppy topknot, the other in a sloppy bun. The one in uniform was looking away, at what, she couldn't tell, and she suspected that they didn't, either. The other…

_Something was draped across their lap, and they were cradling it in their arms…_

She walked towards them. She felt nothing, heard less. The only sound was a strange _whoosh _in her ears; even her heartbeat seemed to have faded away. All around her, the snow continued to fall, an endless cascade, slow and steady, like the blood that sluggishly moved its way through her veins. She came to the black-haired forms, turned to face them, sat down. She wrapped her arms around her shins, settled her chin on her knees.

Asami began to wish very much that she hadn't come here at all.

The huddled figures were who she had suspected they were. One was Zuko, sitting beside his sister, looking away. And draped across Azula's lap was…

_Was…_

Asami looked away. She didn't know what to do.

"Is any of that yours?"

She frowned, looked down at her body. For the first time, she realized that she was covered in blood. It looked like she had gone for a swim in it. It was everywhere, on her clothes, streaking her arms, caked to her hands. It even seemed to be in her hair.

She looked to Zuko. It was him who had asked the question. His face was haggard and pale, and his voice cracked and hoarse. For a brief, disorienting moment, she couldn't tell the difference between his good eye and his bad one.

They both looked equally dead.

She shook her head, tangling her hands together, her thumbs rubbing idly at the dried blood. "I don't think so," she said, in a voice that seemed very small, and very far away.

Zuko nodded, in a way that seemed to say that he wasn't fully aware he was doing it. "You should get to an aid station, have someone check you out. You wouldn't believe the number of times I've seen soldiers bleed to death from wounds they didn't even know they had." He sighed, began to uncoil himself, started to stand. "Come on, I'll take you to Katara, get you checked out."

Asami shook her head, settled her chin deeper between her knees. "I'm not going anywhere. Not without Azula. Not without Ty."

For a moment, she was afraid Zuko would ignore her, would let his instincts as an officer overwhelm his instincts as a brother and a friend. When he didn't say a word, merely settled back down to the ground, she realized that that was a very stupid thought to have.

They sat there for a long time, or, at least, it felt that way to Asami.

After a little while, a soldier ran up to Zuko. The soldier snapped to attention, bowed, said something that Asami couldn't bring herself to hear. Zuko nodded, made some sort of reply, and stood. He leaned down, pressed his mouth to the top of his sister's head, stroked her hair, and sighed. He leaned down still further, pressed a soft kiss to Ty Lee's forehead, straightened himself out, looked to Asami. "I have to go. Can you stay with her?"

Asami nodded, eyes locked on her friends. "Yes, I can."

Zuko sighed. "Thank you. I'll be back as soon as I can." And with that, he was gone.

Only Azula and Asami remained, with Ty Lee between them.

"You don't have to stay out here with me. I know it's cold."

It was Azula, and the sound of her voice sent tremors through Asami's heart. She had long since accepted that she herself could occasionally fall back upon her youth, and end up sounding like a lost and frightened little child. But…for _Azula _to sound like that? Her mind refused to accept the possibility. This was _Azula, _for Agni's sake. _The Princess Tokugawa Azula, _the girl Asami had spent most of her childhood looking up to, whether she would admit it or not. Ty Lee had been her friend, Mai her source of jealousy, but Azula?

_I've wanted to be her, for as long as I can remember…_

The idea that something could break Azula was too terrifying to bear, which was why there was only one thing to say.

"Yes, I do. I owe my life to her. I left Mai behind; I won't leave her."

Azula nodded. She sniffled, a soft, trembling hiccup shaking her body. Her eyes were rimmed with red, empty and broken. Before she could pause to think about what she was doing, Asami shifted herself around to Azula's side, to where Ty Lee's head rested in the former princess's lap. Asami reached out, began running her fingers through Ty Lee's hair, brushing her fingertips across the girls face.

"She's still beautiful," she said.

Azula giggled, which was more a sob than anything else, but at least it was there. "Yeah…even now, her hair is still perfect…"

Asami smiled. "She would probably disagree."

Azula sighed. "Yeah…she never was happy with it, no matter what we told her…" She sniffed, freed a hand, wiped at her eyes. "Will you…will you help me carry her inside? I couldn't bear to ask Zuko. He…" Her voice trailed off, ended in a whisper. _"I just couldn't…"_

Asami nodded. She had seen the thing in one of Zuko's hands, the thing he had tried to hide, the mass of soldier's ID tags, hanging in a massive clump. "Of course I will."

The girls stood, very slowly, and together, carried their friend inside, away from the snow. They never let her touch the ground.

* * *

Like I was going to stick that knife in, and not turn it. Still...that one hurt my soul. Yeesh, I'm mean. I don't know why you guys put up with me.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Lobsang feels very old. Stay tuned!


	24. LOBSANG I

LOBSANG

THE ROOM WAS VERY COLD, SO COLD THAT HIS BREATH HUNG IN A CLOUD OVER HIS HEAD. It wasn't small, he knew that. Normally, this was the assembly hall, where elders and teachers would gather the novices when they needed to speak to them all at once. It felt small, though. Even with all the windows open, it felt very, very small.

Mostly, he decided, because the floor was covered in bodies.

The bodies were covered, of course, wrapped tight in shrouds stained with dried blood. The room was dark, the blood looking black in the gloom. He tried to number the bodies, lost count when he reached a hundred. He closed his eyes.

_This isn't even the only room. _On the floor above, desks and tables had been removed from classrooms, and more tightly wrapped bodies were being laid out, more every hour. In the novices' cafeteria, massive tables had been thrown out into the snow, and the men of the Ninety-Fourth were laying out their own fallen. For some reason, that had been the room that had broken his heart the most. At least, for his people, his fallen, they died within sight of home, had begun their journey into the next life near family and friends, family and friends who knew their fate. But when he had walked into the cafeteria, seen the soldiers bustling about, watched the clerks at their work, he had had to run out, choking back tears.

All he could think of was how young so many of them were, and how so very, very far from home. They had died for him, for his people, and if things went wrong, they would be eternally reviled as traitors, rather than as the heroes they were.

_And somewhere out there, we're dumping our enemies into a big pit, and leaving them to be forgotten…_

He leaned back against the wall, stuck the stem of his pipe between his lips. With trembling hands, he packed the bowl, got a match lit on the twelfth try, somehow managed to get the flame into the bowl. Tears burned in his eyes, tears he wanted to shed, but couldn't. He was just too angry.

_I am sick and tired of watching young boys die for old men's lies._

_ I have had __**enough.**_

_No more..._

"Hey, Old Man…"

He chuckled, why, he wasn't entirely sure. He turned his head, watched as Katara stepped through the door and into the gloom. She looked a right, frightful mess. She was still in her Water Tribe armor, though she had cleaned the war-paint from her face. Her hair was pulled back in a very sloppy ponytail, and she clutched a rag, which she was using to absently wipe at the blood that coated her hands and her arms.

He sighed, looked away. "Hello yourself, young lady. Any news?"

She shook her head, eyes fixed on the bloody rag in her hands. "Not a word. We don't know where Korra is, or what's happened, or anything. We're sending out search parties, but…" She sighed, and it was obvious to Lobsang that she was blinking back tears of anger and frustration and sadness and grief, and only the spirits knew what else. "Toph is camped out on the causeway. Heh…wouldn't even let me heal her cut. She's bundled up, and she refuses to come inside until Korra comes back. You should…" She cracked a smile that looked very sad to Lobsang. "You should see it. Apparently, the Ninety-Fourth has pretty much adopted her, and there's, like, fifty war-battered soldiers, camped out there with her. To kill time and keep her mind off things, they're doing their best to lose every item of value they own while she slaughters them at whatever game they can think of."

Lobsang smiled. He couldn't help it; the picture really was kind of precious, in a sad, desolate sort of way. "That is…quite the image. And your brother?"

"Resting. That…_that witch…_did more damage than we realized. He's going to be out of commission for at least a few weeks. And before you ask, Azula and Asami are a mess. They're with Ty Lee now, preparing her for a funeral. Suki's with them, too."

Lobsang nodded. "And your husband?"

Katara sighed, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wall. "That's actually what I'm on my way to address right after this. Heh…you see, the second we see each other, we're just going to crack. We're going to hurl ourselves into each other's arms and collapse into blubbering messes on the floor. We'll probably have to be carried to bed."

"You haven't had your emotional breakdown yet?"

She shook her head. "No, we haven't, but I'm running on empty at this point, and considering that we're generally in sync on these kinds of things..." She cracked a strange little smile, a better one this time, and Lobsang was very glad to see it. "Which reminds me, I better grab some moon tea on my way to our room. I'm very much in danger of deciding I don't have the heart to bother right now."

Lobsang couldn't stop himself; he chuckled. "That would be appropriate, when you think about it, considering young Ty Lee's speech at your wedding reception."

"Heh…yeah, it would be, wouldn't it? I mean…can you believe that she had names picked out for _twenty freaking kids? _What am I, a jackalope?"

Lobsang shrugged, puffing away on his pipe. "She was an excitable young lady."

Katara sighed. "Yes, she was…Lobsang…"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Tell me she's going to be okay. Lie if you have to. Tell me there's no danger in what she did, tell me she'll come back to us, tell me that this wasn't all for nothing."

Lobsang thought of a lot of things then. He thought of how, if Korra had somehow unlocked the seventh _chakra _before she activated the Avatar State, all would be well. There would be some minor issues, while they got her used to phasing in and out, but that was just a matter of practice. His thoughts turned from there, no matter how much he didn't want them to, turned and headed off down the dark road that was the other possibility, that, somehow, her rage and her anguish had sent her into the full Avatar State without the seventh _chakra, _and if that happened…well…

_It's in the hands of a higher power…_

_ And, I'm afraid, the gods might have nothing to do with it…_

Naturally, he didn't say a word of that. Instead, he turned to Katara, tapped the stem of his pipe against his nose, winked, and lied through his teeth. "She'll be just fine, my dear. You have nothing to worry about."

She looked to him, and smiled. "Thank you, Lobsang." Her smile widened, and without another word, she popped up, pecked him on the cheek, and slipped out the door and back to her work.

Her eyes didn't fool Lobsang, though. He knew, quite well, that she didn't believe a word he said. Which was fair, he supposed.

He didn't, either.

* * *

Oh, Lobsang...I still can't believe I killed you in _A Different Path. _That was mean, and a total waste of a good character, I see now. Yeah, I mean, it made sense in the context and structure of that particular story and all, but still...

For those playing the home game, in any battle, and this goes back a long way, the winning side always sees to its dead very carefully, while generally digging (or, in this case, probably bending) a big pit and rolling in the losers. Is it right? Probably not, but it's the way these things tend to work. YMMV

Moving on! In the next chapter, Kojima gets the last laugh. Stay tuned!


	25. JIRO III

JIRO

IT WAS DARK BY THE TIME HE MADE IT BACK TO THE CAMP, VERY DARK, AND VERY COLD. The wind that sliced out of the north cut him down to the bone. Snow was falling, hard and heavy, a constant stream, and he couldn't stop shivering. He had a vague memory of his winter clothes, piled on the deck of a boat, the eastern cliffs of the temple looming up above him. He would've given anything for that coat, those gloves, just then, anything at all. His very pride would have been forfeit, if someone had only offered him a fire.

Which didn't mean all that much, he had to admit to himself. Pride had never been very important to him. Only power was important, power and success.

_And right now, I have neither…_

_ And it all started out so well, too…_

The camp was practically deserted, the only signs of life the occasional peasant, picking through what remained. Once, he would have killed every last one of them, purely on principle, if for nothing else, but now, he ignored them. His men, his army, had been shattered, the survivors no doubt scattering to the winds, running for their lives. Whatever they had left behind was forfeit now; let the scavengers have their day.

After all, he was alive. That was what was important. He was alive, and he still had a chance. For what, he didn't quite know yet, but it would come to him.

He was Matsuura Jiro. If anyone could come back from this, it would be him. Just because he had lost, didn't mean he was beaten.

_No, _he promised himself, as he began rummaging around in what had once been his own tent, _I'm not beaten yet. I refuse to give in. I will go down fighting, if only because I can._

_ It is, after all, in my nature to do so._

It took him awhile, but he eventually found what he needed, peeling off his armor and replacing it with heavy winter clothes. He even found some money, and scrounged up some food. He ate the food cold, not bothering to light a fire. He was sure it tasted awful, but he couldn't tell. He needed fuel; anything beyond that was extravagance.

There was still one thing left to do, though.

For some reason he couldn't quite fathom, he wasn't the least bit surprised to find Kojima still there. He found the man sitting before a strong fire, eyes closed, smoking a cigarette and humming a jaunty little tune. Lined up outside of what remained of the hut Jiro had had him locked up in, were what looked like thirty bodies, covered in blankets and rapidly disappearing beneath the snow. Jiro looked to the bodies, to the shattered hut, to Kojima, to the fire, back again, and started to laugh.

It seemed the most appropriate response.

Even Kojima seemed to think so. He stopped humming, tossed his current cigarette into the fire, his lips quirking up into a strange little grin as he lit a new cigarette with a burning twig plucked from the blaze. Chuckling, low and deep in the back of his throat, Kojima spoke, in a voice that trembled with amusement.

"Good evening, my lord."

Jiro shook his head. He walked over to the bodies, poked around until he found a sword that was still intact, a sword that he attached to his own belt, all the while, laughing.

"Good evening, yourself, Kojima. I can't say that I'm shocked to see you here."

Kojima nodded, pursing his lips as if in serious thought. "I would consider that a compliment, my lord, were it not for the fact that very little surprises you."

Jiro nodded, walking over to the fire, holding his gloved hands out to the warmth. The heat that seeped into his blood made him want to sob with relief. His body, his very _soul, _drank in the life of the fire, bathing in Agni's gift. "You know, I used to think that, too. I'm not so sure anymore."

Kojima shrugged, his eyes still closed. "Such is life, my lord. It has a way of throwing us for a loop."

Jiro concentrated on the fire, reveling in the warmth that was just short of delicious. "You know, seeing as you're still here, I'm going to have to kill you."

Kojima sighed. "So I expected."

"So…why are you still here? Why didn't you run when you had the chance? After all," he rolled his head towards the direction of the shattered hut, "I imagine that someone came and gave you an offer."

Kojima just shook his head. "They did. The most incredible young girl, only sixteen-years-old, if you can believe it. Born the only child of illiterate herders at the bottom of the world, barely able to even write her own name until she was twelve, and yet, she's going to change the world." He frowned, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "That, or shatter it to pieces. Or, even worse, return it to the way it was. Either way," another shrug, "the die has been cast. It's in the hands of the gods now."

"I don't think that even they have control over things at this point," Jiro observed, rubbing his hands together, working his fingers, grimacing as the blood began to flow once more. "Still…that doesn't answer my question."

Kojima scoffed. "I'm sure you have many questions, my lord."

Jiro acknowledged that with a thoughtful nod. "I do. For example…why? Why have you done what you've done? Who're you working for?"

Without saying a word, Kojima reached inside his coat, plucked something out, and tossed it to Jiro. Jiro caught it, held it up, leaned in, turned the thing this way and that, trying to puzzle out what it meant. _I don't understand. _It was nothing more than a Pai Sho tile, the white lotus piece, and a rather beaten and battered tile at that.

It meant less than nothing to Jiro.

"The fuck is this?" he asked.

Kojima smiled, a real smile, like normal people were capable of. For the first time in a long time, Jiro was completely shocked, and utterly lost. _I didn't know he had it in him. _

"That, my lord," Kojima said, in a strange, sing-song sort of voice, "will become clear, in time. For now, though, I would just imprint that image in your mind, and toss it into the fire."

That, Jiro did. It seemed the only sensible thing to do.

"Now," Kojima continued, as if they were just old men, sitting on a porch and talking about the weather, "as to your original question…why did I stay? Why am I calmly sitting here, awaiting my death, when it would be a simple matter, in your current condition, to tear you limb-from-limb? Well, that's simple, really: Because you're done, and I wanted to tell you that."

Jiro turned from the fire, walked calmly until he was behind Kojima, drawing his borrowed _katana _from its scabbard. "That's impossible, and you know it. I'm not done until I'm dead."

Kojima giggled. Somehow, that unsettled Jiro more than anything else. "Oh, my lord, I'm afraid you're wrong. You are completely and utterly done. It's only a matter of time. You will spend the rest of your miserable life trying to grasp at the phantoms that will be all that is left of the power you so ruthlessly and painstakingly gathered. In the end, you have accomplished nothing, other than bring about your own demise. You will be little more than a footnote, one of history's cautionary tales."

Jiro grasped the _katana, _waving it to-and-fro, getting a feel for its weight and its heft. "You won't be remembered at all."

Kojima scoffed. "That, my lord, will be a mercy. Monsters like us should be forgotten, the quicker, the better. But, at least I get this last, final vengeance."

"How so?"

Jiro couldn't see the man's face, though he wanted to. Kojima was little more than a silhouette against the flames now, a shadow, flickering in the darkness.

"Simple: Because you will never forget this moment. You're going to ask me a final question, and I will answer you. You will think you have finally won, achieved a true victory in the midst of your day of defeat. You will comfort yourself in believing that you mastered at least one person, one soul, and bound it to bend to your will. And then, maybe today, maybe next week, it will all click, and you will realize that, even when everything was in your favor, you were master of _nothing. _And then, you will march to the fate that awaits all tyrants, never understanding why."

Jiro shook his head. He didn't want to believe any of this, so he simply chose not to. He was incapable of anything else. He knew this, even as he did nothing about it.

"You're insane, Kojima."

Kojima laughed. "That's not my name."

Jiro raised the sword, tensed his body for the final blow. "Fine, then. What is?"

Kojima didn't even hesitate to answer.

"Kuwabatake Sanjuro."

Jiro smiled.

"Thank you, Kuwabatake-san."

And with that, he struck the head of the lackey who was never a lackey clean from his neck with one stroke.

He was saddling an ostrich-horse that he had found munching hay in what remained of the stables when something occurred to him. Following an instinct that he couldn't quite identify, he turned, found one of the scavengers who was picking through the remains of his hopes and dreams. "You there," he said, in Hangugeo, hoping the peasant understood it.

The peasant frowned, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe Putonghua?" the man said, flashing a mouth that was missing a few teeth.

Jiro waved a hand around, encompassing the area. "What is this place? Or, what was this place before?"

The man scratched his head, looking a bit confused. "Well…um…truth be told, this used to be my farm. That hut," he pointed back to where Kuwabatake had been held, "was actually my house."

Jiro nodded. Something was prickling at the back of his mind, something he desperately had to see, even though he wasn't entirely sure that he should. "I see…what did you grow here?"

The man turned to one of the other scavengers, a woman whom Jiro could only assume was the man's wife. The woman looked up, shrugged, returned to her search. Turning back to Jiro, the man shrugged once more, in that way that only peasants truly can, and said, "Why, barley, if you must know, sir."

Jiro looked at the man, looked deep into his eyes, and realized, with a shock, that the man was telling the truth. He realized this, right about the time that he realized that the man was about thirty-or-so years old.

Jiro didn't do a thing to the man. He merely got up into his saddle, turned the ostrich-horse towards the southeast, and rode away.

It was a long time before he stopped laughing.

* * *

There's going to come a point, later in this book, that you're going to want to come back and re-read this, and wonder if Kojima was working some kind of very unique, very special spell. There's definitely going to be an element of _Maybe Magic, Maybe Mundane _going on later. Keep that in mind.

For those playing the home game, I just worked in a very convoluted _Yojimbo _reference. _Yojimbo, _for those not in the know, is an old Akira Kurosawa movie, and an excellent one at that. It's the movie that _A Fistful of Dollars _is a remake of, and by remake, I mean that Sergio Leone pretty much stole _Yojimbo _shot-for-shot. In _Yojimbo, _Toshiro Mifune plays, in essence, a _samurai with no name, _who, at one point, gives his name as _Kuwabatake Sanjuro, _the meaning of which should now be pretty obvious.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Sokka wakes up. Stay tuned!


	26. SOKKA III

SOKKA

THE FIRST THING HE NOTICED WAS THE PAIN. Everything hurt, quite literally. Every muscle, every fiber, every bone, ached and throbbed with pain. He felt light headed, fuzzy, his mouth dry as sand and his vision clouded, which told him that he'd been given something for the pain, and a lot of it, too. He could even feel a strange tingly sensation, which he knew from experience meant that his sister had been working on him.

And yet, despite all of that, everything really, really hurt.

He powered through it, though. Life in his homeland was hard, had been for as long as his people could remember. Somehow, he had managed to stumble into making his life even harder than that, and the world was cruel and cold and full of sorrow. He had learned to work through the pain, a long time ago.

Which was why, after he had closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, breathing the pain away, Sokka was able to notice that he wasn't alone. He blinked, the world swimming, lights bursting in his eyes. He blinked, over and over again, until, finally, he was able to feel the sensation of someone holding his hand, hear the sniffling in the gloom, and see the girl who was sitting beside him in the dark.

There was only one candle in the room, burning low, but even then, he knew who it was.

_"Hey there, princess…"_

Azula sniffled, wiping her nose with her free hand, the other firmly clasped around his own. _"Hey, yourself, you big fat moron…"_

He sighed, not daring to roll his eyes as he settled his head back onto the pillow. "Fat…? I take offense at that."

"Heh…you would, you oaf. How do you feel?"

He wanted to shrug, but decided against it. Though he wasn't normally one to accept that discretion was the better part of valor, this time, he decided that it was the wiser course of action. _Oh, if you could only see me now, Gran-Gran…you always said I'd get myself killed one of these days, if I didn't use my head…_

_ Well, I didn't get killed, and now I'm using…something…? _He frowned, which seemed to take far too much effort. _Eh, I'll come up with a better line later._

"Well," he admitted, his voice gathering strength, though, he had to admit, there didn't seem to be much on hand, "I feel like I just got run over by a buffalo-yak, and the herd that was following it, but, besides that…well…I'm breathing, so, there's that."

She nodded. He rolled his head to get a good look at her, or, at least, as good a look as he was capable. She was shrouded in darkness, her hair hanging down to cover her face.

Even then, one didn't have to be a genius to see that she was, very calmly, very quietly, crying her eyes out.

"Hey," he muttered, after struggling in vain to turn on his side, an effort that rewarded him only with a burst of nausea, "what happened? Where is everyone? Did we win?"

Azula shook her head, and her grip on his hand tightened. It hurt, but he bit down on the wince, pushed aside the pain. Somehow, he managed to grip her hand back, though even he had to acknowledge that it was probably too weak to even be noticed.

"You could say that, I suppose," she replied. "But…but…" She took a breath, and then another, and then her shoulders slumped and what little strength she had left flowed out of her. _"We lost Ty Lee…"_

_ Gods. _Before he was even fully aware, he was moving. He pulled himself up in the bed, got his hand free of hers, wrapped the arm around her body, pulled her tight, pulled her close. The actions hurt more than he could have ever believed possible, but, somehow, he managed. He did it for her.

He was a lot like his sister in that regard.

"Oh, Azula, I'm so sorry…" He pressed his lips to the top of her head, let her bury her face in his chest. "I'm so, so very sorry…"

She shuddered against him, shaking her head from side-to-side. "I know it's stupid…I know it is…so many people died today, good people, innocent people, but…but…_I just can't stop thinking about her…"_

He sighed, closed his eyes, somehow managed to get his other arm around her, too. "Hey, don't beat yourself up over that, okay? She was your friend; of _course _you're going to be more torn up over her than over people you didn't really know. It's normal. Trust me, alright?"

She scoffed, which made him want to laugh. _Only you, Azula, could manage to scoff in the middle of an emotional breakdown. _"Yeah, that's what my brother told me…"

He smiled. "You should listen to him, you know. He's smarter than he looks."

"Of course he is," she admitted, "but if I started listening to him, he might get illusions as to his own grandeur, you know? And I can't have that. Let your sister do the ego pumping."

That brought a very unwelcome image to Sokka's mind, one he quickly and efficiently shoved aside. "Yeah, well, let's not talk about that." He frowned, turned his gaze to the door. "Speaking of which…where the hell is my sister?"

"What, you think that she should just drop everything and take care of you?"

"Well, _naturally. _I mean, _come on, _right?"

She giggled. It was soft and tattered and broken, but it was a giggle. He had never been more proud of anything in his entire life, than he was of that giggle. "You would think that…but…she's been in here. _A lot. _Running around like a pig-chicken with her head cut off, her and my brother. They do realize that they're human, right?"

He chuckled, as much as he was capable. "That's rich, coming from you, _Your Highness._"

He couldn't see the roll of the eyes, but he could feel it. "Bite me."

"Tell me when and where."

She sighed. "Thank you, Sokka. I really needed this."

He nodded. With each bit of strength that returned to him, he tightened his grip on her more. "It's what I do, dear heart. It's what I do." He pressed his lips back into the top of her head. "Who's with…with your friend?"

The resolve ebbed out of her, and he instantly regretted bringing it up. "Right now? Asami. Suki finally passed out, Zu-Zu and Katara have been in and out, and…I should be in there, I know I should, but…_but…"_

He shook his head. "You don't have to explain anything to me. I've been there."

She nodded, in a way that snuggled her face deeper into his chest. "I know…"

"You need me to come sit with you? I will, you know."

The resolve swept back into the girl in his arms, and the scoff made its triumphant return. "In your condition? I'll have to carry your ass down the hall."

"Hmm, now there's a thought…"

She let go of another giggle, just as sad as the one before, but, hey, he was going to take whatever he could get. "You're ridiculous. I don't know why I like you."

He shrugged. "No one does. I'm serious, though…"

"I know. Maybe in a bit. But…for now…can you just…just hold me?"

He smiled into her hair. "I can absolutely do that."

She snuggled in, still sniffling, her tears still dampening his shirt. "Thank you. Oh…and if you mention a word about this to anyone, _especially my brother, _I'll cut your balls off and feed them to you."

He chuckled. _There's my girl. _"Don't worry, Your Highness, your secret is safe with me."

He didn't bother to point out that everyone was well aware that Azula was human, and if anyone knew that, it was definitely the brother who she used to ask to drive away her nightmares. What would be the purpose of that?

After all, it is when we are weakest, that we need our myths the most.

* * *

That was cute. Heartbreaking, but cute.

By the way, I think I deserve a pat on the back, for writing a fic where Sokka/Azula can be a thing, but neither of them has to have some sort of strange, quasi-magical amnesia (_I'm looking at you, How I Became Yours_, which, as terrible as it is, you kind of have to take your hat off to the trouble that girl went through to put it all together).

Moving on! That's all for this morning, more tomorrow, of course. Meanwhile, in the next chapter, Zuko and Katara have their breakdown. Stay tuned!


	27. A GIRL AND A BOY

A GIRL AND A BOY

IT WASN'T ALWAYS EASY, THEIR RELATIONSHIP. In those first months after Gaoling, there had been a lot of hurdles to overcome, a lot of things to get used to. Over four years in the Army had left Zuko with a tendency to bark, and over two years shepherding the would-be Avatar around the world had left Katara with a tendency to believe that she knew best. Add on to that the fact that both were extraordinarily stubborn, mix in the differences in culture and upbringing, and add in the mood swings that follow any traumatic event, and one had a recipe for disaster. No one would have been surprised if it hadn't worked.

But…somehow…_it did. _Sure, they didn't always agree, and when arguments occurred, as was inevitable with two such personalities, there tended to be a lot of swearing and much shouting, and more than a few things would end up broken, if not in the fight, definitely in the making up. Katara had even added it up once, concluding that, in their year together, her and Zuko had broken upwards of thirty dishes, cracked a few walls, burned down one hut, shattered five tables, and, once, amazed an innkeeper by breaking an amazingly sturdy bed.

They were both very proud of those last two statistics, though, when it came to the bed, neither was sure how they'd managed it.

Yes, it worked, and worked beautifully. This was never in evidence more than the night of the worst battle either of them had ever seen. All through that day, they had run themselves ragged, until, finally, night had come, and they couldn't take it anymore. Somehow, they had both turned on their heels and walked, slow, steady, to their shared room. They did not communicate, did not arrange it, did not plan it. They could not have _possibly _known that the other was headed there, too.

Or maybe they did? Such things are a mystery, even to those who share in them.

They arrived at their door at the exact same time, from opposite directions. They were both still in the clothes they had worn into battle, and both were very much the worse for wear. They were spattered in blood, their eyes bloodshot and washed out, faces pale, nerves shredded. One had only to take one look at them to see that both were living the worst sort of hell, a world that seemed about to end, but couldn't manage to make up its mind.

And they had both had just about enough.

Who hurled themselves into whose arms? Who made the first step? Who let the first sob shatter their throats, the first tear spill down their cheek? It doesn't matter. What's important is that they were there, they were together, and, for one more day, they had survived.

They would see tomorrow.

They would see the sunrise.

And they would experience it together.

Everything else could wait, at least an hour. After all, it would take at least that long to figure out how they had managed to get their clothes off before they tumbled into bed.

* * *

You guys just _know _that, when Zuko and Katara argue, Katara's going to throw some fucking plates.

This is just a random digression, but I really do believe that there is no "standard" for argument in a relationship. Some relationships involve a lot of bickering, others involve little fighting, but when it happens, it's tends to be a blow-out, and others still, like my marriage, involve no fighting whatsoever (seriously, in going on five years together, my wife and I have argued...maybe...twice, and that's only if one calls "disagreeing about something, bickering about it, then deciding that it's not a big deal" an "argument"). In other words, every relationship is different, and everyone should find what works for them. Zuko and Katara, in my mind, don't fight a lot, but when they do, it's a big event, but not as big as the make-up sex afterwards.

Also, good morning! Also, moving on! In the next chapter, Toph is Toph, and will probably break your heart. Stay tuned!


	28. TOPH II

TOPH

THE CROWD THAT HAD GATHERED AROUND TOPH AT THE GATES OF THE TEMPLE HAD BEGUN TO TAKE ON SOMETHING OF A VIGIL-LIKE QUALITY. It was almost religious, really. Air Nomads, Fire Nation soldiers, the random refugees who had come to call the temple home, all came by, stood a watch, some staying for only a few moments, others for hours on end. From what she had heard, there was even a little shrine taking shape, somewhere around there, where Air Nomad prayer flags fluttered over Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom incense sticks. She had no doubt that many viewed this watch as a solemn, heartfelt affair.

Naturally, she wasn't about to let this drag her down. She had a girl to wait for, and an emotional breakdown to forestall. Which was why, when she made her final move, she leapt out of her seat, jabbed her fists into the air, and bellowed, _"Fuck yeah, checkmate, motherfucker!" _She did a little victory dance, making no effort to soften the humiliation she had just dealt out, before holding her palm out to her opponent, putting on her best smile, and saying, "Pay up, dick-weed."

Across the Pai Sho board, her opponent, a young officer from the Ninety-Fourth named Okubo, grumbled, no doubt rolling his eyes as he rummaged in his coin purse. As the coins dropped into Toph's hand, he muttered, sounding remarkably like a petulant child, "You know, my lady, I still can't quite get over the fact that this shouldn't be possible in the physical realm that we inhabit."

Toph plopped herself back into the camp chair one of the soldiers had so thoughtfully supplied her with, rubbing her thumb over each coin, nodding, and tossing them into her ever-growing pile. "And you'd think you would," she pointed out, "what with all the fancy book-learning that make that vocabulary possible." She snapped her fingers, and another soldier appeared, a young enlisted man named Shibata, who seemed quite enamored of her. The boy, who couldn't have been much more than nineteen-years-old, eagerly stuck a cigarette in her mouth and lit it with a snap of his own fingers.

She didn't thank him, though. That, after all, would ruin the image the boys of the Ninety-Fourth seemed to be enjoying so much.

Meanwhile, Okubo was shrugging, which she knew, because, well, of course he was. _Fucker shrugs all the time. He's worse than Sparky when it comes to nervous ticks, which, speaking of things that shouldn't be physically possible… _"My education was, indeed, quite expansive, my lady, but, it appears, it was not expansive enough." There came a sound of tiles sliding around on the board. "Shall we try again?"

She scoffed. "What, haven't lost enough money yet?"

There came a round of chuckles, and a sound of someone nudging Okubo in the arm. From somewhere off to the side, a voice that sounded like an officer's (_which was something she had picked up; officers tended to have more refined accents, though none, as yet, could compare to those of Sparky and Princess_) said, "Hey, don't worry about that! Okubo's family is _loaded. _You'll be able to drink the finest wines for a year out of what you swindle out of him tonight."

"Hey!" Toph barked, tossing the last coin onto the pile and extending a finger. "It's not _cheating _if no one catches me at it."

Okubo laughed. "Fair enough, my lady." There came a sound of creaking armor, and he said, "Whenever you're ready. Standard buy-in?"

She didn't respond at first. Instead, she turned to the crowd (which, for the record, was decidedly in Toph's favor), jerked a thumb at Okubo, and snarked, "Did this asshole just bow to me again? Tell me this asshole didn't fucking bow."

The signals said Okubo was going to deny it, but that same voice from before shouted, "You bet he fucking did!" This set off a chorus of cat-calls and laughter; Toph's aversion to bowing was well established at this point.

Rounding on Okubo, who seemed to be trying to shrink into his chair, Toph put on her best scowl and growled, "The fuck did I tell you about gods-damn _bowing, _dickhead?"

The signals said Okubo was cringing, which Toph appreciated, since other signals said he was just playing along, which she appreciated even more. "Um…that…well…that since you can't see it, we really shouldn't bother…"

Toph gave a savage nod. "_Exactly. _I mean, come on, it's not like my-"

The words died in her throat, along with her good mood. _Dammit. Gods-fucking-dammit. __**Dammit. **_She had been about to say, _It's not like my mom's here or anything. _She could feel the life draining out of her, the life and the strength and the will and the resolve. She desperately wanted to stand up and run away, run off across the causeway, run screaming through the countryside, until she found who she was looking for.

_Dammit, Korra, where the fuck are you?_

_**Where?**_

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of a heavy stack of coins being slammed onto the side of the table. In a strident, defiant voice, Okubo announced, "You know what, my lady? Fuck the standard buy-in. In light of my transgression, I have decided that I will triple the usual bet. Unless, of course, you don't feel up to it…"

She gave herself a shake. _Not now. I can make it. I can do this._

_ I'm Toph Bei Fong._

_ I haven't given up yet, and I'm not about to start._

She snapped her fingers. Shibata materialized at her elbow, counted out the coins, put them into the pot. Leaning over the board, she let a thick cloud of smoke slip from her mouth and nostrils, making sure that it blew right into Okubo's face.

"You're on, asshole."

With that, she made her move, and kept the shadows at bay just a little bit longer.

* * *

What, you thought I was done playing games with your feels? If you did, you obviously haven't been paying attention.

Also, how can Toph play Pai Sho when she's blind? Well, for one thing, she's Toph, so, you know, _that. _But, also, you'd be amazed what blind people can do. Something like, say, a card game might be tricky (though there are, I understand, ways around that), but most board games offer little difficulty, once the blind person in question gets used to them, especially when you consider something like Pai Sho, which, from what I could tell, has a uniform starting position for all the pieces. After that, it's all about keeping track of shit.

And besides, if there are deaf music snobs (and yes, there totally are), there can be blind Pai Sho players.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we finally find out where the fuck Korra was. Stay tuned!


	29. KORRA II

KORRA

SHE WALKED.

She had woken up in a field. It had been very cold, the wind howling out of the north. Snow had been falling, an endless cascade of white swirling down from the darkness above. She didn't know if it was day or night, and she didn't know where she was. Everything hurt, ached. She felt empty, hollowed out. When she tried to speak, words wouldn't come; they died, sharp and scratchy, in her throat. She looked around, and couldn't find a single soul. The white stretched on, endlessly, into the horizon, climbing up snow-capped peaks to the east, disappearing into eternity to the west. Scattered trees whispered in the wind, a thousand-thousand voices mumbling in the half-light.

She didn't know where she was, or how she had gotten there. All she could remember, was blood, blood bursting from Ty Lee's chest, bubbling out of her mouth, her brain screaming, _My fault, this is my fault, oh gods, what have I done. _Then, that horrid man, that _monster, _whose name was Matsuura Jiro, though she didn't know how she knew that. She saw him coming for her, the blood-drenched blade of his _katana _flashing for her throat, fire in his palm and in his eyes, and then…

_Blue…_

_ Nothing but blue…_

She walked.

For how long, she didn't know.

"Am I dead?"

To her side and a step behind, hovering just beyond the edges of her sight, Aang shook his head. How she knew it was Aang, or how she knew he was there, she couldn't even _begin _to guess. The fact was, she knew it, just as she knew that he was shaking his head, and that he looked very tired, very lost, and very sad.

"Not yet, you're not."

She shrugged, holding herself tight, bent over as she plowed through the swirling snow. Her skin felt warm, even as she shivered in the cold. _Azula warned me about this, about how, when you use firebending to warm yourself, you might not __**feel **__warm, even though you are. __**I know it doesn't make sense, **__she had said, as she walked me through the forms, __**but you'll understand, in time.**_

_** Understand what? **__I asked._

_ I don't remember the answer. I should, but I don't._

_ Oh well._

"What do you mean, not yet?"

Aang sighed, sounding remarkably like a beaten-down old man. "Because, really, only time can tell, Korra. You know what you did, you know what the consequences might be."

"But…if I'm not dead yet…that means I made it, right? I survived…"

"That's…" He was pinching his nose, she just _knew it. _"That's not how it works, Korra, and you know it. Even if it hasn't been told to you, in so many words, you know it, just like you know languages you've never spoken, master forms it should take decades to even try. It's part of being the Avatar, knowing things, and you know this."

She shook her head. Her eyes were closed. She didn't remember closing them. "I used the full power of the Avatar. I used it, wielding it, without unlocking the seventh _chakra." _She sighed, letting her shoulders slump. She wanted nothing more than to sit down, curl up in the snow, and sleep for a thousand years. "Now I have to pay the price."

"Yes, you do."

"Is there anything you can do about it?"

"I'm doing something right now."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm getting you home. You should be passed out right now, still back in that field. The others…they're very angry, like I've never seen them before. It's insane, back in _Happy Fun Avatar-land. _Did you know that firebenders can get mad enough to make smoke come out of their ears? Because, now, I do."

"But…what's that got to do with getting me home?"

"Because they wanted to rip your consciousness out of your body and haul you before the tribunal, that's why."

Her heart stopped, and her blood ran cold.

"They…they can do that?"

She didn't have to see the nod to know how sad it was.

"Yes…yes, they can. Your power comes from Raava, the Spirit of the World Itself, and Raava listens to them. As far as they're concerned, your actions have put the entire world in grave danger, threatening to destroy the very institution of the Avatar itself. They can't just let that slide."

She could only nod. "And…and what do you think?"

She felt the smile, warm as the sun on a hot summer's day.

"I think…that might just be for the best. And that's why I'm going to get you home."

She shouldn't have been smiling, but…she just had to. The boy with the bright eyes and the eternal smile was putting everything on the line for her.

_He believes in me._

_ He's got my back._

_ He knows where I need to be._

"Thank you, Aang."

"Don't mention it."

They walked in silence for a while after that. All she could hear, was the howl of the wind, and the crunch of her boots through the snow.

"Aang?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going to happen to me?"

"Well…that's a good question. That all depends on you, really, and whether you can fool every Avatar that ever existed before you."

She frowned. "Fool them about what?"

"What you really intend to do, of course."

"Oh…what's that? Because if you know, I'd really like a heads-up, you know, before I do it."

"Heh…you'll figure out. Heck, you're already half-way there."

Her shoulders slumped. "Oh…I see…"

He laughed. She had always loved his laugh. Nobody really laughed like Aang did.

"Don't look so down! I'm behind you a hundred-percent. Which is why I'm getting you home. It's going to take a lot of love to you get you back, and if anyone has enough love to overcome the will of Raava, well…it'd be your family."

She giggled, how, she would never know. "Yeah…well, look at my Mom. She did stare down a god and make it blink."

"Heh…that was pretty freaking awesome."

She smiled. "Yeah…Aang?"

"Hmm?"

"How much longer until we get there?"

"Why don't you look up?"

She did. Her mind reeled, the world spinning around her like she was the maypole and they were the dancers. She was standing in the middle of the causeway into the Northern Air Temple. It was day, the sun glowing through the clouds that covered the sky. It wasn't even snowing anymore.

It seemed like everyone was standing before her. She saw soldiers pushing and shoving to get a good view, monks and nuns and common folk jostling for position. Katara was there, bursting out of the crowd, Zuko on her heels. They were dressed in…

Korra had to smirk. _They're dressed like they put on their clothes in a hurry, in the dark…_

_ Crazy kids…_

Then, she looked down, and saw…

_Toph…_

"Hey, you."

Tears were spilling down Toph's face. The girl's whole body was trembling, her hands reaching out for Korra, shaking like leaves in the wind.

"Hey, yourself," Toph said, half between a shout and a whisper. "You know you're in big trouble when Katara gets here, right?"

Korra shrugged. "Yeah…what about with you?"

"Well…I _was _mad as hell, but, now? I'm just happy you're here. I'll let Sugar Queen kick your ass for the both of us."

Korra giggled. "That's very sweet of you, Toph." She pursed her lips in thought, took a good, long look at her friend, something to hold on to in the coming darkness. "You know…you're still the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. I really, really like you."

Toph blushed bright red, which Korra couldn't help but feel was something of a miracle. "Yeah…I really like you, too. Now," she took a step, hands still shaking, still outstretched, "take my hand, and let's get you into a nice, warm bed."

Korra felt a bubble of mischief burst in her chest. "Only if it's yours?"

Toph scoffed. "Fucking _duh. _After all, think about it: You totally owe me."

Korra nodded. "Yeah, I totally do…"

She was falling, how far or to where, she didn't know. The world was turning into white, a white that was so deep and so bright it was almost black. _Or maybe it's actually blackness, that's almost white… _Korra didn't know, and she supposed it didn't matter.

She fell, further and further. Somewhere, she heard voices, screaming her name, begging her to get up. Someone was holding her, several someones. She could feel tears drip onto her skin, trickle down her cheeks. Not her tears, though.

At least, she didn't think so.

The last thing she saw was a beautiful woman, draped in white, glowing like the sun.

She fell, and knew nothing more.

* * *

A quick comment here, before we keep rolling: The thing about the Avatar is that, in LOK, it's made quite clear that one's past lives can restore one's powers, if they're lost. If that's true, then it has to be equally true that one's past lives can also take one's powers away. In my mind, there _has _to be some mechanism in place to put a stop to Avatars who step out of line. After all, how else to explain some of the widely disparate lifespans of various Avatars? Something's going on there.

Of course, it might also just me over-thinking a kid's show, but hey, if that was wrong, do any of us want to be right?

Moving on! In the next chapter, we begin a brief period during which I jump around and get the rest of the plot moving, and you all begin to glare at me. Stay tuned!


	30. THE CONFIDANTE I

THE CONFIDANTE

IMAWANO KIYOSHIRO SAT, AND HE WAITED.

As far as outward appearances went, he was completely, utterly, almost unnaturally calm. In many ways, he matched the room he was in, of which the most that could be said would be to observe that it was obviously in a prison, containing merely a table, two chairs placed on opposite sides, and absolutely nothing else. He sat in one of those chairs, dressed very plainly, eyes closed, a finger tapping the bowl of the cheap pipe he was puffing. His face calm, serene, as unrevealing as the plain folder that sat on the table before him.

Inwardly, though, he was a seething torrent, a storm of emotions raging through his body and ravaging his mind. For the first time in a long time, Imawano Kiyoshiro, boyhood friend of the Fire Lord, didn't know how he felt, and hadn't a clue what to do.

What was more, he was even sure he _should _do…well…_anything at all._

There were two doors into the room, on opposite walls from each other. The one he had entered through was at his back, the other, directly in front of him. He spared it no mind, gave it not a glance. Doors, he had long since learned, matter not in what they were, but, rather, what came through them.

For example, at this moment, the door was very important to him, as it hadn't been before. At this moment, as he finally opened his eyes for the first time since he had sat down, locks were being thrown open. There came the sound of muttered voices, and then hinges screamed as the heavy metal door swung wide. Three figures appeared, stepping into the light that streamed through thin windows lining the top of one of the walls, or flickered in well-secured lanterns. Two of the figures were guards, dressed in the drab uniforms typical of all prison guards. They were big, hulking men, made all the more imposing when compared to the figure they were practically carrying into the room.

Kiyoshiro watched that third individual very carefully, his heart falling with every second he spent in the watching. He actually had to blink a few times, just to make sure that this wasn't a dream, or that the wrong man hadn't been brought to him by mistake. Only the sheer ludicrousness of such a possibility forced him to accept that this was, indeed, the man he had come to see.

_Yes, _Kiyoshiro concluded, as the man, his wrists bound in _chi-_blocking manacles, _my best_ _friend's son has seen better days._

That was, in many ways, an understatement. His Royal Highness the Crown Prince Tokugawa Yoshihito had fallen very, very far. The change that had come over him since the Lady Ursa's visit was startling to see. His hair hung in shaggy, unwashed tangles, his shoulders were slumped, his once full-figured (_for lack of a more polite term_) physique wasted away to skin and bones. His eyes were bloodshot and buried beneath thick black rings, as if he hadn't slept in days, and the shape of the Lady Ursa's shoe was still evident in the bruise that spread across his chin. His skin was sallow, and he couldn't seem to tear his gaze from the floor. When the guards shoved him into his seat, he didn't blink, didn't argue, didn't shout, didn't glare. He accepted it meekly, as if he was beyond the ability to care.

In other words, the reports Kiyoshiro had received over the past month or so were completely accurate: His Royal Highness was not well.

Kiyoshiro sighed, waving his hand over the bowl of his pipe to extinguish the flame before he set the pipe carefully onto the table at his elbow. _No, _he thought, feeling the exhaustion that only tobacco and tea seemed able to keep at bay these days, _the boy is not well at all._

Kiyoshiro wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. He had never liked his best friend's only son. From an early age, the boy had been arrogant and lazy, with a mean, vindictive streak a mile wide. _And yet… _Kiyoshiro shook his head. He couldn't quite find it in himself to blame the boy.

_We are, all of us, the victims of the crimes of our fathers._

Kiyoshiro pushed the thought away. _Enough wool-gathering; down to business._

He pressed a fist to his mouth, softly clearing his throat. If the boy noticed, he gave no sign. "Good afternoon, my lord," Kiyoshiro said, with a slight dip of his head; to use the proper address and show the traditional courtesies had been forbidden by His Majesty. "I trust I find you well today."

Yoshihito shrugged, an act that consisted merely of raising his shoulders an inch or two before letting them slump back down. "I've been better," he admitted, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, drained of even the slightest hint of emotion.

Kiyoshiro, for his part, couldn't quite decide whether or not the voice was an improvement over the vain and imperious way that the Crown Prince used to address the world.

Pushing through his misgivings, desperately trying not to mentally curse His Majesty's recent decisions, Kiyoshiro placed his hands flat on the table, to either side of the folder. He struggled for words for a few moments, completely at a loss for what to say, or what to do. In the end, with a sigh, he decided to fall back upon his duty.

He sighed, and fell back on the promise he had made to his best friend, long ago.

_Iroh is, and always has been, my friend. I will never regret that. __**Never.**_

"My lord," Kiyoshiro began, forcing his gaze to stay on the prince's face, "I have come to inform you of a few changes that are due to take place in your…ahem…_situation. _As you may or may not be aware, His Majesty your father will, in about a month's time, be taking an army to our territories in the former Earth Kingdom. He has already left the capital to oversee the necessary preparations. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Yoshihito responded with that same, barely perceptible shrug. "I had heard the situation was bad. I assumed something of the sort would occur."

Kiyoshiro could only grimace at that. The simple truth was that the situation was downright _terrible. _Half the fleet was on the verge of mutiny, the northwest of the former Earth Kingdom was completely in the hands of rebels and mutineers, and half the remaining supposedly _loyal _soldiers seemed only to be waiting for the campaign season to begin before they raised their own banners in rebellion. Even the Homeland wasn't immune; attempts to induct the next draft class early had been met with riots, riots that Home Army units seemed unable – _or unwilling _– to put down.

Kiyoshiro found his eyes flicking to the guards who stood, impassive, remote, silent, behind Yoshihito's chair. He thought of the Lady Ursa, how she had managed to stroll into Yoshihito's cell and beat him almost senseless. Before, he had assumed that bribery had been the key that unlocked the door.

He looked at the guards, and found himself hoping that bribery was, indeed, the entire answer.

Kiyoshiro cleared his throat once more. "Well, my lord, you would be correct. Given the situation, and given that we can only assume that your cousin, the Princess Azula, has gone over to the rebels, it is of vital importance that we present a strong front here at home. With that in mind, today, you will not go back to your cell. Instead, you will come with me. When His Majesty your father leaves for overseas, you will rule the Homeland as Crown Regent, until such a time as your father will return. Do you understand?"

This time, Yoshihito didn't even bother to shrug. He didn't so much as _blink. _Instead, he seemed to sink further into himself, and when he spoke, Kiyoshiro had to strain to hear him.

"Is it true?"

Kiyoshiro frowned. "Is what true?"

"What Lady Ursa told me…that Zuko's still alive…"

Once more, Kiyoshiro's eyes flicked to the guards, and he found himself hoping that the flicker of emotion that flashed across their faces was merely a trick of the light. "As of this time," Kiyoshiro said, carefully guarding his tone, "the position of His Majesty is that Prince Zuko, gods rest his soul, fell heroically on the field of battle, and that word to the contrary is merely the efforts of traitors seeking to legitimize their cause."

Yoshihito actually scoffed at that. "So, it's true then. Fine. That would be appropriate, wouldn't it?"

"What would, my lord?"

"Nothing. So, I'm a prince again?"

Kiyoshiro shook his head, placing a hand on his folder and sliding it across the table. Yoshihito made not a move to acknowledge that it existed.

Kiyoshiro decided to roll with the punch. "I'm afraid not, my lord. You will be Crown Regent in name only. All decisions will actually be made by the Privy Council, which I have been made Lord Chancellor of. Within that folder, you will find the terms of your appointment. Follow them, and serve His Majesty your father well, and you will be allowed to retire to the Royal Estate on Ember Island, for reasons of your health. Fail, and you will be returned to your cell. Do you understand?"

Yoshihito moved not a muscle. "I'll never be Fire Lord, will I?"

Kiyoshiro shook his head. "No, you will not. Indeed, once the crisis has passed and His Majesty returns to us, you will voluntarily renounce your title and remove yourself from the succession in favor of whomever His Majesty deems fit to take your place."

Yoshihito sighed. "So, she was right…"

Kiyoshiro quirked an eyebrow. "Who was, my lord?"

Yoshihito just shook his head. Not once, in the entire proceedings, had he looked at anywhere but the floor. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. Do I have to sign anything?"

"No, my lord. I would advise you to read over the documents in that folder, though."

Yoshihito scoffed for the second time at that. "Don't worry, I know what's expected of me. I just have to do what I always did, right? Lift not a finger, look good in a robe, and let the grown-ups take care of business for me. I get anything wrong?"

Kiyoshiro shook his head. "No, my lord. That is about the long and short of it."

Yoshihito nodded. "Right…will that be all?"

"For now, my lord."

"Can I go back to my cell?"

_Has he heard a word I've said? What happened to him? Two months ago, he was still raging at the guards if his noodles were a degree less than hot and a second beyond fresh. Now?_

He sighed. _Now, I don't know __**what **__he is._

_ Maybe he doesn't, either._

_ Like you do?_

Kiyoshiro grabbed that stray thought by the neck and tossed it into a pit in the back of his mind. He didn't have time for such philosophizing right now.

"No, my lord. You will be returning with me to the Palace. We have…" He almost said, _We have to get you cleaned up and presentable, you'll inspire no confidence looking like that, _but, just in time, decided not to. "We have…_preparations _to make, before we make the announcement."

Yoshihito seemed to find this rather amusing, as a soft, dry chuckle slipped from his lips. "So, from one cell to another, eh? Very well." He lifted his elbows, and, without a word, the two guards slipped their arms through his and pulled him to his feet. Yoshihito nodded towards the door behind Kiyoshiro, though his eyes remained locked on the floor. "Lead the way, Lord Chancellor."

Kiyoshiro plucked the folder from the table, slipped his pipe into a pocket, and stood. "As you wish, my lord." Feeling awkward and uncomfortable, he rubbed the back of his neck as he muttered, "Her Majesty your mother is quite excited to have you coming home. She's having the cooks prepare a special dinner. Your sisters will be there as well."

Yoshihito shrugged. "What about my wife?"

_She spit in my face when I asked her if she would leave her parents' estate and return to the Palace, while using language quite unfit for someone of her birth. _"She is feeling…unwell, of late, and will be staying at her parents' estate with your son until she recovers."

That drew Yoshihito's third scoff. "Ah…fair enough. I can't say that I blame her. Nice of Mother to go to all the trouble, though…" He trailed off, muttering something under his breath, before saying, "Shall we go?"

Kiyoshiro bowed his head. "We shall, my lord."

All the way out of the prison and back to the Palace, the Crown Prince said not a word. He looked at nothing, and saw nothing, probably, Kiyoshiro suspected, not even the ground he stared at.

Kiyoshiro, for his part, couldn't decide if he was relieved, or just plain sad.

* * *

So, like I said in the previous author's note, this chapter, and next few after it, are going to involve hopping around the world, and getting all the other plot balls into the air. It's going to be quite a juggling act, let me tell you; this book might well be the most intricately plotted thing I've ever attempted.

We'll see how it goes.

Real quick, what happened to our least favorite prince? Simple, really: Ursa delivered her breaking speech, and it broke the guy. Yoshihito's entire identity was premised on the idea that he was a prince, a future Fire Lord, and thus, no matter what he did, it wasn't wrong, because by doing it, it became right. Take that away from him, force him to confront the possibility that he might be human, and, thus, subject to things like _guilt _and _responsibility, _and, well...

Let's just say that he might not have survived that revelation intact.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we pop into Ba Sing Se, and see two people I'm pretty sure no one was missing. Stay tuned!


	31. THE CHANCELLOR I

THE CHANCELLOR

"YOU ASKED FOR ME, MY LORD?"

Long Feng didn't reply at first. He was standing at a window in what was once the Imperial Palace, looking out upon a Ba Sing Se that stretched off into the horizon, draped in snow. The Palace rested upon the city's highest point, the idea being that none would be able to pass a day without being reminded of where the powers that ruled their lives resided. In reality, as Long Feng was well aware, only the wealthy and well-born of the Upper Ring thought about such things. Down in the slums of the Lower Ring, no one even bothered to look up, even when an Emperor walked these halls.

_After all, _he thought, _when you live in the gutter, you have to keep your eyes on the ground, because that was where the food was._

He sighed. There were days when he missed those gutters, the gutters where he was born. After all, when one lived in the gutter, the only question that concerned you was what gutter to look for scraps in tomorrow.

_No one looks to those in the gutters for answers._

"Have I ever told you about my mother, Kuvira?"

Off to his right, a respectful distance away, his protégé, the woman he had raised up through the ranks and put in charge of the Dai Li when the day of his final ascendance came, Cheng Kuvira frowned. He wasn't looking at her when she frowned, but, then again, he didn't have to. He knew her well, almost as well as he knew himself. He didn't have to turn his gaze to see those strong shoulders, those hard green eyes, the dark brown hair kept neat and cut no longer than her chin, didn't have to see her to be reminded that she was one of the only women he had ever met who was taller than he was.

No, he needed no reminders of that, or of anything else, for that matter.

"My lord?"

He allowed himself a thin smile at the carefully restrained confusion in her voice. He tapped the stem of his pipe against his chin, eyes still gazing out upon the city.

_My city._

"Well, Kuvira? Have I?"

The woman shook her head. "No, my lord, you have not. I have, of course, heard the rumors, but I have never concerned myself with them."

He allowed his smile to turn into a smirk. "How wise of you, my dear. A complete lie, of course, but nonetheless, wise of you to say so." He harbored no illusions as to her reaction, and didn't bother to turn his gaze to catch a look of surprise or feigned innocence that would not exist. "The fact is," he continued, "I never knew my father, but I knew my mother. Her name was Xiaodan, and she was a prostitute."

"Hence why you didn't know your father's name," Kuvira pointed out.

He had to chuckle at that. "Naturally. Do you know what happened to her?"

Kuvira didn't even bother to deny that she had investigated all there was to know of him; it was a reaction of which he whole-heartedly approved. "When you were six-or-seven, the exact age is unclear, even to yourself, a client neglected to pay her. She reproached him for it, and he responded by beating her to death. Not an hour later, the matron of the house, after giving you ten _yuan _out of pity, tossed you out into the street, where your money was stolen from you that very night."

Long Feng sighed. "Do you know what happened to the boy who robbed and beat me?"

Kuvira nodded. "When you attained the rank of an officer in the Dai Li, you showed up on his doorstep, bowed, reminded him of the story, informed him of your identity, and left."

The smile Long Feng gave at that almost reached his eyes. _Almost. _Few smiles ever did. "And why didn't I kill him?"

He felt the shrug. "Why bother? Better to let him be haunted by the possibilities for life." A pause, and then, "May I ask what the point of all of this has been?"

He shrugged, mirroring the one she had just given him. "Just walking down memory lane, my dear. What plans have you made for the possibility of a general insurrection in the city?"

His subordinate did not so much as pause or stutter or even _blink _at the sudden change in subject. _Naturally, _he thought, _because she knows that the subject hasn't really changed at all. _"With or without a general mutiny by the Fire Nation troops garrisoned in the city?" she replied, in the calm, cool, and competent tone of voice she used for…well…_everything. _

He pondered that for a moment. "Let's assume that, at least…oh…_half _the garrison rises in open revolt, and that the other half contents itself with not standing in their way."

"Even a fourth of the garrison turning their banners would be a serious crisis, my lord."

"True. Still, what are your plans?" He paused, rolling his words from one side of his mouth to the other. "You do have a plan, I presume."

It was not a question, and, to his joy, Kuvira did not even bother to answer it. "Presuming that a general insurrection by the population is accompanied by a general mutiny of no less than a third of the garrison, as well as assuming that organized rebels have been able to slip into the city, the plan is to withdraw the Dai Li into the Upper Ring, close the inner gates, and wait for relief."

"I pray that the preparations are already underway."

"Naturally, my lord. We have supplies to last us at least two months, four, if we immediately go to half-rations."

"Don't intend to try and hold the entire city?"

"Without a mutiny, we might be able to. With a mutiny of any kind? Why bother? Besides, as you taught me, one must always prepare to lose. Causing too much damage to the city would make negotiations…shall we say…_problematic, _should it come to that."

He nodded. _Good, good. You have learned well, my dear. When the day comes for you to make your move against me, should I lose, I will feel quite at peace with it. _"Excellent. And should the Avatar appear, before relief can come?"

"In that case, my lord, it will be in the hands of the gods."

As if in reply, the sound of shouting and hands banging on tables echoed from behind the closed doors to Long Feng's left. Kuvira smirked, chuckling under her breath. Long Feng, though, could only pinch the bridge of his nose in a desperate effort to ward off the headache he had just escaped.

"I take it the meeting is not going well?" Kuvira asked, apparently unable to keep a slight mocking lilt out of her voice.

Not that Long Feng minded. Mockery was about all the men he had left in that room deserved. "It's not going at all, my dear. That is why we must make our own preparations."

"As we are, my lord, though…" There was a clicking of booted heels, and he had no doubt that she was giving a bow worthy of a soldier. "Apologies, my lord, but I must once more request a crackdown on all known rebel cells. Even a sweep of the Fire Nation units in the city shouldn't be out of the question."

For a brief moment, Long Feng let himself entertain the idea. Nothing would assuage his current headache more than the sight of heads on pikes lining the streets of his city. Still… "Are our preparations for a general insurrection and mutiny fully in place?"

She shook her head. "Not yet, my lord."

"Then," he said, placing the stem of his pipe in his mouth and taking a long, soothing drag, "in that case, would you not agree that it would be unwise to set the match to the fuse at this time? Because that is _exactly _what will happen, should we follow your proposal."

This brought on yet another bow. He watched its reflection in the windows. "As you say, my lord."

He nodded. "Yes, as I say. Continue your preparations, Kuvira, and don't forget to say your prayers. If we play our cards right, who knows how much further we may be able to rise." _Or fall, _he thought, but didn't bother to say; Kuvira didn't need the reminder.

"As you command, my lord." Another clicking of heels, another bow, and then Cheng Kuvira turned on her heel and was gone.

He remained at his window for a bit longer, puffing his pipe, looking out upon his city. When he finally tired of wool-gathering, he turned on his heel, opened the doors, and went back into his council chamber.

* * *

Like anyone was missing _those _two. Oddly enough, I didn't originally have a place for Kuvira. But, when I started to plot out Long Feng's roll in this story, somehow, my brain just kept putting Kuvira right beside him. I don't know why, but those two working together just kind of...fit for me.

Also, why is Long Feng in charge of Ba Sing Se? In case I don't get the chance to write this in, basically, he was head of the Dai Li when Iroh broke the Second Wall and descended upon the city itself. The Emperor and most of the generals wanted to fight, but Long Feng knew a lost cause when he saw one. So he launched his little coup, and, in exchange, was given the city to rule in the name of the Fire Lord (then Azulon). Azulon did this because he was the kind of guy to know that, if at all possible, you change the people in charge as little as you can.

And, besides, the devil you know, right?

Moving on! In the next chapter, Lady Kaelyn gets her wish, and a wild Tahno appears! Stay tuned!


	32. THE WATER MASTER I

THE WATER MASTER

IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT WHEN PAKKU WAS LED INTO THE PALACE COURTYARD. Despite that, he was not at all surprised to see that the Palace was a beehive of activity, a candle burning in seemingly every window. Soldiers and courtiers bustled to-and-fro, the thin winter air alive with muttered conversations and shouted commands. There was an electric charge to the air, a static of excitement that almost seemed to crackle and hiss as Pakku passed through it. And gods, did he feel it. He felt it right down to his bones. He was old, he knew, approaching his seventieth name-day. The top of his head was bald, his snow-white hair receding more and more with each passing month, and every single one of those years weighed upon his shoulders. And yet, despite all of that, he couldn't help but feel downright _giddy._

_It's time. _He lips curled into a predatory smile, worthy of the most savage wolf. Over and over again, the words tumbled around in his head, warming him with each pass. _It's time. It's time._

_ It's finally __**time.**_

Just before the guards opened the doors and he passed inside, he cast a final glance at the heavens. His smile grew, and his heart filled his chest until it felt like it would burst out and go running through the snow. _The day has finally come, my brother._

_ I shall finally be able to honor your sacrifice._

With that, he passed through the doors, hustled down the twisting and winding corridors, and, with a nod at the guards, entered the throne room.

Outside, the winter had its teeth firmly into the North's flesh. Today was the first day in a week that it hadn't snowed, and Iqaluit was buried under a thick blanket of white. Inside the throne room, though, winter was a distant memory. Fires crackled in all three of the massive fireplaces, and servants rushed in and out, feeding more wood into the flames. It was so warm that, when one of these servants appeared at Pakku's elbow and asked for his coat, Pakku surrendered it with unconcealed relief. Thus unburdened, he continued his journey, swinging wide around the throne itself and nodding at the final set of guards as he entered the small room where the Privy Council met.

If the Palace compound itself was alive with activity, the council chamber was anything but. The chairs were empty, the long table bare. At the end of the room, yet another fire roared, shadows dancing back and forth across the walls. Besides Pakku, there were only two others present, both men, one looking impossibly young, the other looking far older than his years.

Pakku's heart went out to him, which did nothing to lesson his resolve.

As soon as the doors were closed behind him, Pakku rendered the North's equivalent of a bow, that being a shallow dip of the head. "Good evening, Your Majesty."

High King Arnook was little more than a silhouette before the fire, but Pakku didn't need to see the man's face to recognize him. The shadow sighed, its shoulders slumping beneath the burden of rule. "Hello, old friend," the shadow said. "I thank you for your speed."

Pakku dipped his head once more. "When the High King calls, it is the duty of all loyal subjects to come running."

The shadows chuckled. "Oh, if only I could've known you would one day say that, back when you were putting me through my paces as a boy."

Pakku smiled at the memory. "Perhaps, Your Majesty, but would you have learned what you needed to learn, had you known that?"

"Heh…perhaps not." The shadow turned until it faced Pakku, stepping away from the fire until Pakku could get a good look at his king's face. What he saw, he did not like. Arnook looked old, far too old. There were deep lines in his face, spreading out in an intricate pattern from the corners of his eyes. His hair and goatee remained as neat and trimmed as ever, but the Royal Household's barbers could do nothing to hide the grey that now streaked it. _No, _Pakku was forced to admit, if only to himself, _the past few years have not been kind to my king._

_ They have not been kind to any of us, but least of all, him._

Arnook returned Pakku's genuflections with a dip of his own head. "I trust you have already heard the news."

Pakku nodded. "The courier you sent for me filled me in on the way here." He paused, took a deep breath, tried to control the tremble of excitement that rippled through his body, struggled to keep his voice from sounding like that of a schoolboy. "Is it really true?"

Arnook sighed, slumping down into the chair at the head of the table. "It seems to be so. Our brothers and sisters in the South will, when the winter storms have passed, be going to war."

A scoff came from the third figure in the room. "Quite a shock, really," the man said, in a refined voice thick with disdain, "considering that those barbarians can barely agree on whether or not the sky is blue without starting some kind of blood feud over it."

Pakku felt himself stiffen with anger, anger it took a lot of effort to resist. It was with great reluctance that he forced himself to dip his head to the young man who hovered by the king's shoulder. "Ah, Captain Tahno. Forgive me, I didn't see you there."

Tahno shrugged, raising a hand to better facilitate a careful examination of his fingernails. "Quite alright, Master Pakku. At your age, one can't expect you to be quick on the uptake."

That was almost one barb too many. Not for the first time, Pakku found himself considering the possibility that the so-called _barbarians _of their sister tribe were on to something, what with their eternal willingness to throw punches over the slightest offense. The truth was, Pakku despised Tahno. The young man was everything he loathed about the very social class that he himself was a part of. The boy spoke with an infuriatingly cultivated accent, an effect accentuated by the hair he reportedly spent countless hours on and the absurdly refined way he dressed and composed himself.

He was also a gifted waterbender who had showed no lack of bravery during that butcher Zhao's assault on their city, which was the only thing that held Pakku back from freezing the boy's mouth shut.

In the end, he contented himself with saying, through gritted teeth, "How nice of you to say. Returning to the issue at hand, though," he turned back to Arnook, "we must consider our response."

Arnook nodded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his hands on his chest. "Yes, we must. That is why I called you here, old friend."

Pakku frowned. "Should this not be referred to the Privy Council?"

"Oh," Arnook replied, "it will, in about an hour. However, I wanted to hear your thoughts first."

Tahno rolled his eyes at that. "As if we even needed to _ask. _We _all _know that _Master _Pakku has a bit of…shall we say…a bit of a _soft spot _for our distant relatives to the south." Tahno looked up from his nails, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Isn't that so, _Master?"_

_ Why wouldn't I? _he thought, but didn't say. _It's nice to associate with people who have to rely on something other than high birth and good looks to advance through life. _Unfortunately, the key phrase in that sentence was _high birth _when it came to Captain Tahno, so Pakku had no choice but to bite his tongue and put on a smile. "My experiences during the War and during the recent crisis in our own city have led me to have the highest respect for their courage, bravery, and tenacity." Pakku allowed his eyes to narrow, and fixed Tahno with his most venomous glare. "Qualities we ourselves could stand to have a little more of."

If Tahno was affected by Pakku's irritation, he didn't show it. "True," he said, dropping one hand and lifting the other, his fingernail inspection continuing, "they _are _brave, in that frightfully barbaric way of theirs. Still…they do tend to be _rash, _don't they?"

Pakku shook his head, feeling a bit lost. "I'm not sure I see what you mean."

It was Arnook who answered, most to Pakku's dismay. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, my friend. The way things are…_happening, _out there in the world, and the way so many seem to be clamoring for a return to war, gives me, I feel, cause for concern."

Once more, Pakku found himself biting his tongue. There was a time, he found himself vaguely remembering, when he wasn't so excitable, so hot-blooded, so quick to anger and irritation. He stifled a sigh.

_ A time before Kanna's grandchildren showed up on my doorstep…_

"I understand your concern," Pakku allowed, "but that doesn't change the fact that there is really only one course of action to take."

Arnook raised an eyebrow. "And that would be?"

Pakku schooled his features to calm placidity. "War, of course. The time has come to wrest the Fire Lords' grip from the world's throat." He allowed his eyes to flick to Tahno. "I'm sure we can _all _agree with that."

Tahno shrugged, in that theatric, infuriatingly languid way of his. "Oh, we all do, no one's disputing that. Still…I'm sure you have to admit that His Majesty has legitimate cause for concern."

Pakku turned his attention back to Arnook. "I'm not sure I see that you do."

It was Tahno who answered, Tahno who drawled on, while Arnook seemed to shrink into his chair, eyes drooping until they were almost closed, all while Pakku grew angrier and angrier, at what, he wasn't quite sure. He couldn't blame his king, but, on the other hand… _The entire __**world **__is bleeding; we can't hide with our heads in the snow just because we took a punch to the nose._

_ Is that what Yue would want? _He desperately wanted to ask, but he couldn't. Any mention of his daughter would merely drive Arnook further into his hole.

_Further into darkness…_

"One," Tahno said, extending a delicate finger, "the simple fact is that we can't really trust these _rebels _and _mutineers, _now, can we? They talk a big game, but how much support do they _really _have? Even if they win, who's to say that the Fire Lord they set on the Scarlet Throne wouldn't be just as bad, or _worse, _than the last few?"

Pakku took a deep breath, kept his gaze firmly locked on his king, and prayed for strength. "From what I understand, the mutiny is very widespread, and simple plain dissent and exhaustion stretches even further. And besides, they have made very clear, from what I've gathered, that they have no desire in ever submitting to another Fire Lord, or any kind of king, for that matter."

Tahno sighed, dropping his hand and casually leaning against the back of the nearest chair. "And we can trust them…_how, _exactly? Surely we've learned by now to take the word of a bunch of firebreathers with a grain of salt. Which, of course, brings me to my next point, item _two,_" and with those words, another finger extended itself. "That being, why on earth would we march alongside a group of radicals who want to do away with monarchy? They're clearly insane, which, of course, is only to be expected, they _are _Fire Nation, after all, but _still, _we would be twice as mad to join them."

Pakku could only shake his head. "What they do with their own country is their business, and is something they're going to have to sort out themselves. What we're talking about here is, for the first time since Sozin unleashed this madness upon us, the world is finally coming together to return humanity to sanity. Surely that's reason enough to go to war."

"Ah," Tahno replied, pursing his lips, as if in thought, "that brings me to item _three._" A third finger snapped out. "Are we actually _prepared _for war? It's all well and good for our southern _cousins,_" a word he managed to turn into a sneer, "to go whooping and hollering off to war. After all, it's kind of _what they do, _no matter what reason and logic might have to say about it. We," and here, he pressed his extended fingers into his chest, in a gesture that would've made Pakku laugh, under different circumstances, "are, I hope, made of sterner, more reasonable stuff."

Pakku shrugged. "That is a question for generals and admirals, _Captain. _Still, we've come a long way since that tyrant Iroh shattered our fleet all those years ago. If we had to go to war all on our own, we wouldn't stand a chance. Only," and here, he took a step forward, spreading his hands, doing nothing to soften the pleading tone in his voice, "_we won't be alone. _The whole _world _is going to war, only this time, we have a _real _Avatar to rally behind, a cause to unite all four nations." He took another step, and slammed his palms down upon the table. "Your Majesty, we finally have a chance for _peace._"

Arnook said not a word, didn't even move a muscle. Tahno, though, rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes, _Master Pakku, _because we have _so much _cause to believe in the _Ah-vatar."_

That did it. Pakku saw red, and before he quite knew what he was doing, he was storming around the table, advancing on Tahno, who, he was pleased to say, did not look quite so sanguine now. "You listen here, you little _worm_-"

"Enough."

Pakku stopped in his tracks. Arnook had finally moved, and now he was standing, palms flat on the table, fingers spread.

His face, Pakku couldn't help but notice, was just as tired, and just as drained.

_Damn you, Zhao. May you be punished for all eternity for what you've done._

"My friend," Arnook said, eyes locked on the table, "tell me straight: Should we, or should we not, go to war?"

Pakku bowed his head. "I say war, Your Majesty. The time for hiding behind our walls has finally ended. We must let the gods decide."

Arnook flinched, and Pakku would've have given anything to call back his words. _Stupid, silly old fool. _It was all he could do to not kick himself.

"Yes," Arnook said, voice quiet, _"the gods." _He pushed off of the table, finally turned to face Pakku. "And the mood of the people?"

Pakku bowed his head once more. "I believe that the people are behind me."

"Oh?" Tahno said, resuming his casual lean on the chair. "Is that _so?_"

Pakku did nothing to hide the growl in his voice. "You are hardly representative of the _people, _Captain."

Tahno shrugged. "If you say so."

"That's quite enough of that," Arnook snapped, with a glimmer of emotion that made Pakku want to dance with joy. "With all the squabbling I've seen of late, you would think this great nation of ours was run by a pack of women." Arnook stepped away from the table, went back to the fire, while Pakku, for all that he agreed with his king, found himself being very thankful that the Lady Katara was nowhere to be seen. "You have both given me much food for thought. I will hold off on a decision for now, though. You are both dismissed. Pakku?"

"Your Majesty?"

"Please, make yourself at home. We have an hour until the Privy Council meets; the servants will get you whatever you require. You, too, Captain."

Tahno squawked, his mouth dropping open. "But, Your Majesty-"

"I said, _you, too. _Leave me in peace."

Tahno's mouth worked for quite a bit longer, but, in the end, the High King was the High King. Snapping to attention, Tahno fired off a salute, said, "As you wish, Your Majesty," and strode from the room. Pakku bowed his head one final time, thanked his king, and followed the young man out.

He curtly declined a servant's offer of food and drink, though, opting instead to go for a walk around the Palace grounds.

It was cold, sure, but, at the end of the day, he just didn't have much of an appetite.

* * *

Hey, look! A wild Tahno! He used condescending, thinly-veiled sarcasm! It was hugely ineffective, as it generally seems to be!

But no, seriously, I actually really liked writing Tahno in; I'm glad Lady Kaelyn reminded me of him, because by doing that, I remembered a few other LOK characters I would otherwise of forgotten. Plus, Tahno is just so...well..._Tahno. _Say what you will about him, but he's one of those assholes who's pretty open and upfront about being an asshole, and he always seems to do it with a certain amount of style, even if you do spend most of his screentime wanting to put your fist through his face, because holy _fuck _does he have a punchable face.

Real quick, before we get the ball rolling, sorry about the info-dump in this chapter. Still, like I said before, we're in a part of the book where I both keep you in suspense, and get the rest of the plot rolling. This is part of that plot, and since we've never even popped in to the NWT (except in quasi-flashbacks), there was some ground to cover. In essence, Arnook, for reasons that should be obvious, is reluctant to go to open war with the Fire Nation, and there would, in my mind, be a portion of the nobility that either directly benefits from friendly (ish) relations with the Fire Nation, or are simply wary of allying themselves with anti-monarchist mutineers, because, you know, _duh. _What's Tahno's position in all this? Well, he's a consummate courtier, of course, as he would be if he'd been in this kind of situation. He's somehow wormed his way into a position near his king, because, you know, _Tahno, _where he's making sure he can make it sound like he was on whichever side wins in this debate. Sure, he _sounds _like he opposes war, but does he, really? _That's Tahno for you._

Keep an eye out for him; he'll pop up in the end, at a point when you'll be hating me, mostly likely.

Moving on, because that was..._yeesh. _In the next chapter, we're on a boat! Stay tuned!


	33. TOSHIRO I

TOSHIRO

"DID THE BEARD _REALLY _HAVE TO GO?"

Mifune Toshiro chuckled, turning away from the mirror to cast a look to his wife, who was, at that moment, sprawled on their bed of the moment, one knee raised, the other leg balanced upon it, the foot kicking back-and-forth. They were alone, which was why her legs were bare, the burn scars plainly visible as they snaked across her skin. He tore his eyes away from that, though; the sight always made him frown, and Song hated it when he did that.

"Yes, my dear," he replied, smiling. "When we get to Sapporo and begin our work, I'm going to need to look like a soldier, and soldiers don't have thick, bristly beards."

He turned back to the mirror, while she scoffed. "_Please. _We all know the _real _reason you cut it off."

He quirked an eyebrow as he bent back to shaving. "Oh? And what's that?"

"Because your mother would hate it. Why else?"

He could only nod at that; after all, his wife had a point. "You may be on to something there…still, that's only a _small _reason."

Song giggled. "I say otherwise."

"Well," he answered, trying not to sound petulant, "I dispute your assertion."

His wife's giggle grew a bit heated. "Oooh, big words! You know how those get me going."

"Heh…yes, I do."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to let you win this little argument, though."

"Oh? We're arguing? I wasn't aware."

"Hey, I'm not Katara; I don't let you know I'm mad when a plate comes sailing for your head."

"And aren't I thankful for that."

There was a pause then, while he finished shaving, patted his cheeks with a towel, and walked back into their cabin. A wave hit just as he entered the room, sending him tumbling into the little writing desk that was tucked into a corner.

Song burst into laughter, rolling her eyes. "Thank the gods you were never in the Navy, my love. You wouldn't have lasted a _week._"

"You have me there," he admitted. "I was sick the whole way over when I first came to your fair shores."

"So," she said, pursing her lips, "you've at least made _some _improvement."

"Living on a boat for most of a year had a lot to do with that."

"True…still…" She pulled herself up, scootching back until her shoulders were pressed into the headboard. "Do we _have _to go straight to your family?"

He sighed, tossing the towel onto the bed and pulling a shirt from the dresser. "You know that, Song. My father is the most powerful noble in Sapporo, and if we're going to go about spreading the fires of revolution through the Fire Nation itself, that's a very good place to start."

"From what I hear," Song said, crossing her arms, looking like she was trying to keep a frown from her face, "your old hometown is halfway to open rebellion already."

He nodded, hurling himself across the foot of the bed. "True…still, we have to start somewhere. Besides, even though I'm not suspected of anything, and, thus, am free to return home whenever I want, going back and not visiting my family would be…well…it wouldn't look good, alright?" He frowned, pillowing his hands behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. "What's this really about, sweetheart?"

Song huffed, hunching back against the headboard. "I just…I guess I'm just nervous, alright?"

He smiled. "What, about entering the heart of your enemy's homeland and helping your husband commit high treason?"

She rolled her eyes. "_Please. _If I was afraid of _that, _I never would've married you. It's just…well…" She bit her lip, nibbling it in the way that always drove him a little crazy. "It's just…do you think they'll like me?"

He sighed, freeing a hand from under his head and reaching out to stroke his fingertips along her shin. "Once they get over the initial shock, they'll like you just fine. I mean, my sisters will be delighted, and my mother will be content with the fact that I'm married at _all._"

"Uh huh…and your father?"

He had to grimace at that. "Well…he'll get over it. It isn't like he had a marriage contract, signed and sealed, waiting for me or anything."

Song popped an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

He thought about it, before shaking his head. "Even if he did, it's moot now. _You're _my wife, and I love you, and I'm spending the rest of my life with you."

She blushed bright red, and did nothing to contain her girlish giggle. "Oh, Toshiro, you always know just what to say to make me swoon."

He tried on his most cavalier smile, something he was very glad that he was much more successful at than Zuko had ever been. "I try."

She rolled her eyes. "No, you don't."

"That's what _you _think. Still…can we take a moment to appreciate that you're more worried about impressing my mother than you are about marching into the heart of the Fire Nation to kick-start a revolution?"

"Well, _yeah,_" she replied, in a voice that said, _Duh, you moron, what else would I be worried about? _Not for the first time, Toshiro found himself musing on how Song was more like Katara than she would ever admit. _She's just more subtle about it. _"I mean, war and revolution? _That, _I know. Impressing high-born mothers? That's another thing entirely. And besides, we talk revolution and war and everything like that all _day. _Maybe I wanted to talk about something else."

He smiled, rolling over and up the bed until he had his arms firmly wrapped around his wife. "Fair enough," he said, giving her a peck on the forehead. "So, what do you need to know about my family that I haven't already told you?"

She snuggled into him, ensconcing herself firmly in his arms. "Well, to start with…"

By the end of the conversation, Toshiro had decided that, when it came time to organize the rebel army he was planning on assembling, he was going to put his wife in charge of the details.

* * *

Only I can give you a quick little cute break, while also sneaking serious plot. Though, seriously, is meeting one's significant other's parental figures not the worst? I mean, in general, it tends to turn out well, at least for me, but before that, it's just like..._gah. _Even now, dealing with my wife's parents tends to put me a little on edge. Not because they're horrible people; they're totally not. It's just that, well..._these people don't **have **to like me, _you know? If I make my wife angry, there're a thousand-and-one things I can do to make it right, and I have plenty of time to make it happen (_PHRASING_). Piss off the in-laws? That shit gets complex, guys.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we pop in on Bolin, and stumble across another LOK character. Stay tuned!


	34. BOLIN I

BOLIN

IN HIS ENTIRE LIFE (WHICH WAS, ADMITTEDLY, STILL RATHER SHORT), NEVER HAD TORIHADA BOLIN BEEN AS TIRED AS HE WAS AT THAT MOMENT. When he finally staggered into the barracks (the reality of even _having _a barracks being something he still didn't know what to make of), he was a mess, his training clothes torn and tattered, every square inch of him a mountain of pain. _I sure hope someone got the name of the camel-elephant that just ran me over, _he thought as he hurled himself into his cot, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. It was only at the last second, before he pulled his blanket over him and curled up in preparation of passing out, did he remember to kick off his dirt and mud encrusted boots. That done, he committed himself fully to aforementioned curling up, nuzzling into his pillow like a newborn puppy nuzzles into its mother.

_Ahhh…_

"Hey, Bolin! You awake?"

Bolin didn't even have the strength to dignify that with a proper response. Instead, he pulled his pillow over his head, hiked the blanket up until nothing was revealed, and groaned.

"Oh, excellent! So you _are _awake! Have you heard the news?"

If Bolin had rolled his eyes any harder, they would've popped out of his skull and gone bouncing across the floor. _Which wouldn't be all that bad, really; at least then, people would let me __**sleep. **_"Bolin's not here right now. Please leave your name and address with the servant before you, and Bolin will send a reply as soon as he's able."

He didn't even have to see his tormenter to know that the kid was crossing his arms and shaking his head. "That's just silly, Bolin. You don't _have _a servant."

Bolin burrowed even further into his cocoon, which should've been physically impossible, but somehow, he managed. "In the absence of a servant, please just go away and try again later."

There was a huff, and then Bolin's world was shaking. Bolin, naturally, he felt, decided that it was merely an earthquake, and decided to ignore it. Sadly, it was _not _an earthquake, as evidenced by the fact that that same voice was still there, whining, "Aw, come _on, _Bolin! I have exciting news!"

Bolin sighed. "You're totally not going to leave me alone, are you?"

This drew another huff from outside his comfortable little shell. "When you hear what I have to say, you'll be glad I didn't."

_Don't count on it. _For all that Bolin just wanted to try and outlast his opponent, at the end of the day, the primary difference between him and his brother was that, unlike Mako, Bolin knew a lost cause when he saw one. Groaning, he slid out from under his pillow, threw off his blanket, and sat up on the cot. "Alright, Ming," he snarled, rubbing his weary, bloodshot eyes, "spit it out."

Across from him, the face of one Dai Ming split into a triumphant grin as he plopped himself on the cot next to Bolin's. "That's the spirit, buddy!" Ming looked him up and down, clucking his tongue as he did so. "Though, I gotta say, you don't look so good."

Bolin shrugged. "Yeah, well, we've got, what, three, four weeks left until the worst of the winter is truly over? That's how long I have to get all these new recruits trained up. It's hard work, alright? Especially with the way they're pouring in these days." Bolin finally opened his eyes and his mind up wide enough to really take in the other rebel (_though, _Bolin mused, _we're more __**soldiers **__than __**rebels **__these days, aren't we?_). To the surprise of absolutely no one Bolin could think of, Ming looked his usual calm, confident self, right down to his artfully mused hair and tidy uniform that fit _far _too well, considering the makeshift nature of most of their uniforms. "Speaking of which…why aren't you beat to hell and covered in dirt like everybody else?"

Ming rolled his eyes, with the usual completely unnecessary theatrics. "_Because, _Bolin, in case you _forgot, _I work in headquarters now, seeing as genuinely educated soldiers are at a premium these days."

_That, and it was felt that you would be able to do the least damage there, _Bolin thought, but didn't bother to say. Running his hand down his face, he muttered, "Right, sorry, I forgot. _My bad. _So, what did you want to talk about again?"

"Besides the fact that your Putonghua is still absolutely _hideous? _Well, what I wanted to talk about was the exciting news I just heard."

Bolin nodded, ignoring the crack about his Putonghua because, well…_Ming had a point. _Not that it bothered Bolin. What did they want? He'd only had, what, two, three years to pick it up? _Give a guy a break. Shouldn't two languages be enough? _"Right," he said, pushing all of those thoughts aside, "I get that. I'm beat, and I'm tired, so, please, _spit it the hell out already._"

"Fine, fine, keep your pants on." Ming paused, because of _course _he did, cheap theatrics were just how he _rolled, _while he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and used a match and some rather fancy flourishes to get it lit. It was only after taking a few languid, elaborate puffs that he finally continued. "So, you mentioned that we're on a time table here."

Bolin nodded, desperately trying to ignore the way that his pillow was calling his name in a pitiful, exquisitely sad voice. "Yeah, yeah, everyone knows that. So?"

Ming took another puff, blew it out in a thick, artful cloud, looked over each shoulder, and leaned in, eyes flashing with conspiracy as his voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. "Well, it just happens that _this _guy," and here, he jabbed a thumb to his chest, "happens to know _exactly _where we're going."

How the eye roll he gave to that didn't outright crack his neck, Bolin would never know. "Yeah, yeah, we're going to Ba Sing Se. So?"

Ming's face fell, making him look like a kid who just got told that the Blue Spirit wasn't real (_or whatever the Earth Kingdom equivalent is, _Bolin added to himself; that particular piece of information was rattling around in his head somewhere, but he didn't have the energy to go find it). Watching the guy's face fill with disappointment as his entire being deflated almost made the current delay of rest worth it.

_Almost._

"So," Ming said, slumping down into the cot, "you already knew?"

Bolin tried not to smile. _Really, honest. Would this face lie? _"Who doesn't? I mean, where else are we to go? The northwest, north, and eastern edges of the Earth Kingdom are ours, the Fire Nation's armies are either on our side or willing to get out of the way, and all that stands between us and the south is Ba Sing Se. Why wouldn't we go there?"

"Ah!" Ming replied, color flooding back into his face as he extended a finger into the air. "But, do you know _how _we're going to go about doing that?"

Bolin shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Some kind of uprising-slash-mutiny-slash-attack-from-within?" He rubbed his neck, looking wistfully at his pillow. "The details don't matter. The snows melt, more Fire Nation units mutiny or stand down, and we march on the City. What else is there to know?" He jerked a thumb towards his pillow. "Think I can go to bed now?"

Ming had shifted from _disappointed child _to _beaten puppy_. "Yeah, I guess so…does everyone know?"

Bolin was already falling like a felled tree. "Pretty much; it's not metalbending or anything."

Ming huffed. "Psh. Like _anybody _could figure out _metalbending._"

Bolin didn't have time to make a gesture; the blanket was already back over his body, and the pillow was welcoming him with open arms. "Eh, I'm sure the Avatar could, or an earthbender crazy enough to take the time to figure it out."

Ming sighed as he stood, looking quite defeated. "Yeah…probably…oooh!" He began to perk back up. "Think the Avatar will be with us when we reach the city?"

"Meh, probably. Now, seriously, and I hate to be rude here, _fuck off._" Bolin's words reached his ears, and he sighed, feeling like an ass. "Look…Ming? I'm just beat. Hit me up in the morning, and I _promise _to be appropriately surprised. Deal?"

Ming shot him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Bolin. I promise to have something _good _by then."

"I have no doubt of that. Now, _shoo._"

To Ming's credit, he did just that. The guy hadn't taken more than five steps away before Bolin's eyes slid closed, and he began to drift into blissful slumber.

His last thoughts, as always, were of his brother, a whispered prayer that his brother was safe, well, and not being stubborn, because nothing would make Bolin happier than for them to both meet, and on the same side, for once.

* * *

Hey, I'd gone, like, a whole chapter without twisting a knife. You think I was going to forgo that for long? _You don't know me._

Jesus, I'm mean. Also, how about Ming popping up? For those playing the home game, Ming was the earthbender in Tahno's pro-bending team. Once I had Tahno, I just had to get Ming.

This one was pretty self-explanatory, so I'm not going to comment beyond a quick apology for all the info-dumps. They'll taper off pretty soon, I promise.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we step into a room that's not a room. Stay tuned!


	35. THE ROOM

THE ROOM

KORRA WAS IN A ROOM, A ROOM THAT WASN'T A ROOM. Everything was white, only not white. It was like white, only blue, except it wasn't _blue, _either, now, was it? It was a blue that wasn't blue, a blue that was actually _white. _She was sitting in a chair that wasn't a chair, at a table that wasn't a table, on the other side of which was another chair that wasn't a chair. She was bounded in by four walls that weren't walls, and in the wall facing her was a door that wasn't a door.

She screwed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was too much, too confusing. She didn't know where she was, or how long she had been there. Nothing made sense. _I was walking across the causeway…_

_ Toph was smiling at me…_

_ She looked so pretty…_

_ I wanted…_

_ I wanted…_

She shook her head, pressing her palms to her temples as pain sliced through her brain. Every time she tried to think, this happened. She would close her eyes, try to put together what was going on, what _had _gone on, and…she just…_couldn't…_

_ Nothing makes sense…_

_**Nothing…**_

She wanted to cry, only she couldn't. Her head hurt and her ears rang and the glow that didn't glow thrummed and vibrated. She was lost and alone and she wanted to go home. She wanted to stomp her feet and ball her fists and bawl like a little girl. She wanted Toph and Katara and Sokka and Azula and Lobsang and Suki and Zuko and Ty Lee and-

_The katana burst through her chest…_

_ Blood, blood everywhere…_

_ Blue…_

She was on her knees, curled into a ball. Her eyes burned, blazing from tears that just wouldn't come. Her whole body shook, the body that wasn't there. She tugged at hair that didn't exist, pulled it out in clumps that grew back in an instant, strands of thick brown hair evaporating from between fingers through which no blood flowed. The ringing grew, the endless ringing, a ringing that buzzed, a buzzing that rang. It was like all the bells and gongs and horns and trumpets of the world were being sounded, all at once, over and over and over again, even as the silence that had heft and body and weight threatened to swallow her whole.

_Gongs…_

_ The gongs keep ringing…_

_ Fire…_

_ Fire everywhere…_

_ A man that was not a man, a monster from a fairy tale…_

_ His katana dripping with blood…_

_ Coming for my __**head…**_

_Calm, child._

She was on her feet. She didn't remember standing, but then, she didn't remember falling to the floor, either, now, did she? She didn't remember _anything, _even as she remembered _**everything. **_It was all an endless blur, crashing together inside a skull that didn't exist.

_Who is that?_

She spoke, but no words came. She moved her mouth, but no breath brushed over her lips. She desperately wanted Katara, only she wasn't sure if Katara had ever existed.

She wasn't even sure that _she _existed.

Not anymore.

_You know precisely who I am, child._

It was the voice of a woman, old and young, both and neither, all at the same time. It was warm and cool, but not hot or cold. It brushed over her skin, reached into her body, tickled her soul. She wanted to clutch that voice, hold it tight, run away, never hear it again.

It was like the planet itself was speaking, directly to _her._

_ No, _she said without saying, _I don't. Who is that? Who are you? __**Where **__are you? _She looked around. She walked in circles, pacing in endless complex geometric patterns. No matter where she moved, her position remained exactly the same. Nothing moved, nothing changed.

She wasn't even sure that she was actually moving at all.

_Yes, child, you do. You have known me all your life, just as I have known you. You knew before you were born, before your parents were born, before your parents' parents were born. When you first came to my tree, I knew you. I knew you, and you knew me. Look into your heart, child, and you will remember who I am._

Korra shook her head. _That is my name, right? My name is Korra. __**Korra. **__My birth mother is Senna, my birth father Tonraq. My __**real **__mother is Katara. I think I might be in love with a girl named Toph. I don't know what to do about that. That's all true, right? __**Right?!**_

_Of course it's true, child, it's all true._

Korra cringed. She backed away, feeling for the wall, the wall that wasn't there and never came. She was very scared, more scared than she had ever been.

_How did you…how did you hear that?_

_ I hear everything, child. How could I not? After all, I __**am **__everything._

_ Then…I don't…I still don't understand…_

_ Yes, you do, if you will only remember. Remember the __**tree, **__child. Remember the beginning, when your name was Wan._

It clicked. Tumblers turned and slid together and everything fell into place and scales fell from eyes that didn't exist, because nothing was real here, everything was more real than anywhere else in the world, nothing, everything. _Nothing, everything…_

_ Raava. You're…you're Raava._

_ Yes…that is the name you have given me, isn't it?_

_ That's…that's not your name?_

_ How could I have a name? Humans have names. Am I human?_

_ I…I don't know…_

_ Still…sit, child._

Korra was sitting. She was in the chair again, the chair she didn't remember sitting in, the chair that wasn't a chair. _I'm sitting, _she said without saying.

_Good. We have much to talk about._

Korra could only bow her head.

_Okay._

She didn't want to talk. How could she, in this place where you talked without talking? Where you breathed air that wasn't air, and didn't remember sitting down in chairs that weren't chairs? She didn't want to be here, and she didn't want to talk.

She wanted to go home.

She wanted Toph.

She wanted her Mom.

She waited.

She didn't know what else to do.

* * *

Korra is stuck in a room that's not a room, about to meet a god that's more than a god.

Something I want you to do, before we any further, is abandon any attempt to place value judgments on Raava. Think of it like you have to think of gods in various mythologies. After all, gods aren't humans, and they don't think or behave as humans would. Time doesn't move for them like it does for us, and conventional morality doesn't apply to them. How could it? To illustrate, I'm going to call up an example my wife and I discussed, just last night. Why was Aang stuck in an iceberg for a hundred years? Why didn't Raava act to get him freed sooner? Well, maybe she/he/it did. From Raava's perspective, he/she/it got around to things almost immediately; a century would be a blink of an eye to an entity like that.

So, keep that in mind as we continue. It's important for what Korra's eventually going to do.

Moving on! In the next chapter, a day in the life of Katara. Stay tuned!


	36. KATARA III

KATARA

SHE WOKE UP FIRST, BUT SHE DIDN'T GET OUT OF BED. She never did. The world outside was hard and cold, and her husband's arms were soft and warm. Whenever she woke up, Zuko's arms were always around her. She never quite knew how that came to pass. A traumatic childhood, four years in the Army, and a year on the run had all combined to make a light sleeper who tossed and turned and was visited by nightmares far more often than he would admit to anyone but her. No matter what, though, when the time came to open her eyes, his arms would be wrapped around her body, and she would be snuggled deep into his chest.

She breathed deep, in and out, and closed her eyes. He smiled like ash and smoke and polish and cigarettes. She loved every bit of it. She took it in, wrapped him tighter than ever around her soul, and didn't get out of bed until he did.

They didn't talk as they got ready; they didn't need to. They held entire conversations without saying a word. He heated the bath water for her and she bathed while he shaved and then he bathed while she did her hair. Sometimes they bathed together, which always seemed to take longer than when they bathed separately. There were a lot of giggles on those days, from both of them.

She tied his topknot before they left. She always did. His topknot always skewed to the left when he did it himself; their wedding day had been a fluke, and they both knew it. So she tied the topknot, slid the ring that held it together into place, and all the while, they kissed far more than even newlyweds were prone to do.

They ate breakfast together, all of them, the group Sokka insisted on calling the _Krew_. Sometimes they all talked like schoolchildren at recess, and sometimes they said not a word. After eating, Katara would always drink at least one full cup of moon tea. Sokka didn't even blanche anymore when she did it.

After breakfast, everyone went to wherever they needed to go, and did what they needed to do. They always tried to get back together for meals, though. Sometimes, it didn't work perfectly, but they always tried. Katara loved that. They all needed to know that they weren't alone, that they were in this together.

The meetings came after lunch. Oddly enough, she liked the meetings. Sure, they could drag, and sure, a lot of the time, they were just rehashing the variety of things they didn't know, but she was always with Zuko, and he was always with her. She loved watching him take notes, loved how she could make him stiffen and lose his train of thought just by brushing her foot up his leg underneath the table. He would always turn bright red and cough awkwardly into his hand to cover it up, but everyone always noticed, she was sure of it, at least, Azula did, who was always willing to help when it came to teasing her brother. It all drove Zuko crazy, but she didn't care. He deserved it, because sometimes, when she was getting all ranty, as she was wont to do, he would yawn, stretch his arms, and pinch her butt, making her turn nearly purple and forcing her to bite down on a squeak.

Not that she minded. She would be crazy to.

Dinner, though, was always best. Everyone would be tired and worn out, looking to relax, blow off steam. A bottle of some kind of alcohol would always make an appearance, and her husband and her brother would poke at each other's egos, and she and the other girls would giggle and pretend they weren't actually adults. Lobsang would puff his pipe and tell dirty jokes which never failed to make Asami splutter and blush, and Katara would steal puffs off of her husband's cigarettes and, if the mood was right, steal one and make him light it.

Sometimes, after dinner, she would drag Zuko outside and they would spar, while Azula and Suki cat-called and Sokka tried not to turn green, because, come on, when Katara spared with her husband? It was pretty much foreplay. Though, really, Katara felt that her brother should get over himself. After all, she had seen how it looked, whenever he and Azula got out their sharp-and-pointy instruments and squared off on one of the temple's training grounds. Guy really didn't have a right to judge.

Other times, she and her husband would go straight to bed, assuming there wasn't some other meeting to go to. They would go to bed, and snuggle, and talk, and maybe do other things, though that is really no one's business but theirs.

He always fell asleep first. She would watch him. It was just what she did.

But that was only half of her day, wasn't it? Sometimes, it was even less than that. There was one place she spent most of her time in, one room she knew better than the room she shared with her husband. In that room, she would go in, make sure Toph was fed, turn to the girl in the bed. She would wash the girl, have Toph hold her while Katara changed the sheets. She would feed the girl, read to the girl, sing to the girl, help Toph do the girl's hair. Sometimes, the others would come in, though not as often as her. Katara lost count of how many times her and Zuko acted out _Love Amongst the Dragons, _because the girl had loved it so much. It got crazier and dirtier every time, especially when any of the others got involved. Azula's rendition of the female lead's final speech cracked Katara up every time.

Eventually, sleep would come for Toph. By then, Zuko was typically in the room. Together, they would pick Toph up, very carefully, and gently lay her in her bed, which was also in the room. They would tuck Toph in, and then Katara would tuck the girl in. She would brush the hair from the girl's face, kiss her softly on the cheek, and blow out the candle before she left.

Sometimes, afterwards, in bed, she would cry. She hated crying, but sometimes, she couldn't help it. She was only human.

It had been four weeks now, four weeks since the battle.

In all that time, Korra, the daughter of her heart, had uttered not a word.

In all that time, Korra, who broke Katara's heart anew every day, had not opened her eyes.

And yet, every day that Katara woke up in her husband's arms, she felt renewed.

Because, in all that time, she had never blinked, faltered, or stumbled. Sure, sometimes, she cried, but that was all.

She was Katara of the Southern Water Tribes, and she would never, _ever, _turn her back on those who needed her.

It was just what she did.

She just wished it wasn't so hard sometimes.

* * *

Not much to be said here, except to note that, for those playing the home game, time's going to speed up for a bit, and we're going to be jumping around a little. Remember, we're not always in absolute sequential order. If I do my job right, you won't spend too much time confused.

That's all for today! I hope everyone enjoyed our little trip around the world of the story, and is ready for the plot balls to start flying.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Sokka decides that it's time to break the mood. Stay tuned!


	37. SOKKA IV

SOKKA

IT WAS WHEN THE MAP CAME OUT THAT HE DECIDED HE HAD HAD ENOUGH. He wasn't mad, _per se_, mostly because he couldn't be. For various reasons, Suki and Asami couldn't go to the vast majority of the meetings and briefings that were going on, and he always stayed out with them, because Asami had taken to combat training with gusto, and anything that allowed him to wave his sword around with someone who didn't beat his ass nine-times-out-of-ten was balm to what little ego growing up with Katara had left him. So, at breakfast, when Suki asked for the latest updates, and Asami seconded the motion, he didn't get mad. It was just that, when what little cheer had existed in the room popped like a particularly delicate bubble, replaced by the dour expressions and low-pitched voices that talk of war always brought with it, he sighed, looked deep into his tea cup, and decided he had had enough.

Something needed to change. Something needed to break. And _he _was going to make that happen. After all, he was Sokka. The only person he could rely on to do something insane and stupid was Zuko, and with Katara around, the only way to goad Zuko was through Azula…

_Through Azula…_

Something shifted, deep in Sokka's brain. He frowned at it, plucked at it, turned it around and examined it closely. It hadn't fully formed yet, but still, it was there…

_Almost…_

He took a look around the room. Everyone but him was bent over the map Zuko and Lobsang had just spread over the table. What was once the Earth Kingdom extended out from Sokka's fingertips. It really was an incredible map, full of the kind of detail that normally made Sokka swoon. Zuko, Katara, and Azula were currently bent over the map, taking turns pointing out things of interest while Suki and Asami nodded and followed along. Occasionally, Lobsang tossed out a random factoid, peeking out from behind his eternal cloud of pipe smoke. The air was thick with smoke, really, both from Lobsang and from the cigarettes Azula and Zuko seemed capable of smoking endless amounts of, enough to make even Sokka's eyes water. Sometimes, his sister would steal puffs from Zuko, and even when she wasn't, she seemed happy as a clam to breathe it all in.

It was enough to make him gag.

He focused his gaze on Azula, who was standing so that he had a full view of…ahem…_parts he was a big fan of. _He sighed. _Alright, maybe I have no room to talk…_

He looked back to his teacup. He really should calm down. He knew this, but on the other hand, he called bullshit on it. He had just had enough. Korra was in a freaking coma, Toph wouldn't leave her side, and Sokka knew his sister well enough to see the sadness lurking in the corners of her eyes. Everyone was tired and worn out, and even Azula sometimes cried at night.

And Sokka would know, because…

_Because…_

He snapped his fingers through the air. _I've got it. A fight so ridiculous, no one will get hurt, because we'll all be in hysterics by the end of it._

_ I'm a fucking genius, that's what I am._

"Hey, Zuk."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Sokka, I love you like a brother, man, but what have I told you about calling me that?"

Sokka shrugged. "Stop?"

"And yet," Katara said, shooting him a wink to let him know she wasn't serious, "you keep doing it."

"Didn't we determine that he was a slow learner?" Azula pointed out.

"You know what," Katara said, tapping her chin, "we did."

"When was that?" Suki asked, popping an eyebrow as she sipped her tea.

"Back in Gaoling," Azula replied, "when I was helping Katara get ready for a date with my dope of a brother."

That caught Zuko by surprise. "You did something as girly as _that?_"

Asami let out a low whistle of shock. "I'm with your brother, Zula. I remember vividly the one time I went to you for relationship advice."

"Actually," Katara replied, crossing her arms in that pose Sokka knew all too well, "she was quite the help."

"No shit?" Asami said, looking unconvinced.

"No shit," Azula shot back, flipping her the bird, which only made Asami giggle.

"Which is beside the point," Zuko said, pulling the conversation back on topic, which was _exactly _what Sokka was relying on him to do, "which is, what did you want, Sokka?"

Sokka shrugged, adopted his most relaxed, nonchalant pose, and said, in the most casual voice he had ever used in his life, which even he would admit was saying a lot, "Oh, nothing, I just wanted to tell you that I'm banging your sister."

Azula turned bright red, Zuko's mouth dropped open, and everyone else in the room looked like they were trying very hard not to fall on the floor laughing. Zuko stuttered for a few moments, before finally choking out, "You are?"

"You bet," Sokka said, preening like a sparrowkeet in heat. "Girl sneaks into my room pretty much every night."

"After asking Suki and I if her hair looks good," Asami observed.

"And whether or not her outfit is just the right amount of slutty," Suki added.

Zuko rounded on his sister. "Really?"

Azula's initial shock had evaporated into thin air. Being who she was, she had adopted a relaxed pose, making sure to shoot Sokka a wink to let him know that she was on to him. _That's my girl. _"Well, _yeah. _You don't want to be _too _slutty, you know? But you also don't want to be chaste and shit. There's a delicate balance there."

Zuko seemed only able to nod, looking like he had bitten into something sour. To Sokka's delight, though, Katara was bright red from the effort to not laugh, tears dancing in her eyes. _And the right kind of tears. See? I'm a genius, and the world's best brother. _"Right…" Zuko nodded once more, looking utterly lost. "I take it I'm the only one who didn't know this?"

"You are a bit oblivious, babe," Katara pointed out.

"She's got you there, Zu-Zu," was Azula's contribution.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Right. Well…" He turned to Sokka. "I guess I don't have a right to get pissy, so…um…congrats?" He actually tried to give Sokka a thumbs-up, which caused Katara to double over and squeak into her hand.

Sokka just smiled. _And they call __**me **__a dork. _"Aren't you going to do something?"

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck, looking confused. "Like…um…what?"

"Well," Sokka said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, "like…fight me for your sister's honor?"

That was the first time in the conversation that Zuko looked amused. "Right, because she can't do that all on her own."

"Hey," Sokka replied, "it's the principle of the matter."

"You know what," Azula said, pursing her lips in thought, "I think Sokka has a point. You really should defend your sister, Zu-Zu. I mean, she's been seduced by some hairy barbarian, and she, a _princess. _It's pretty much your duty."

Zuko pushed off from the table, waving his hands through the air. "Um…how about _no._ Katara, dear, help me out here."

Katara had recovered herself enough to give Sokka a sly look, while also exchanging knowing glances with her sister-in-law and the other two girls, who looked like they were having the time of their lives. "You know what…I'm with Azula on this one. And while we're on the subject…you know what, Sokka? You never really tried to defend my honor from the dashing young high-born officer from a far-away land who stole your sister's virtue."

Sokka had to snort at that, while Zuko turned to his wife and said, looking rather helpless, "Wait…that's actually a thing?"

Katara gave quite the emphatic nod. "It absolutely is."

"Since when?" her husband asked.

"Since I said so."

Zuko's shoulders slumped. "Shit…"

Suki and Asami cheered, while Azula reached over the table to slug her brother in the arm. "Aw, Zu-Zu, poor thing…she really _does _have you trained!" She turned to Katara. "How did you do it? I never got, like, _anywhere._"

Katara put on her most innocent face. "Well, to be fair, I have…shall we say…_weapons _that were unavailable to you."

"What," Azula replied, grinning from ear-to-ear, "like belly rubs?"

Katara sighed, eyes sparkling. "To start with…"

"Alright," Sokka said, feeling a bit queasy as the girls took his rather genius plan and began to run with it, "that's enough of that. So," he stood, and placed his palms flat on the table, "we're doing this, right?"

Zuko looked to his wife, looked to his sister, to Suki, to Asami, even to Lobsang. He nodded, and realization slowly dawned on his face. Turning back to Sokka, he smiled and said, "You know what? You're on. Dawn, you and me. Loser is the first one who's laughing too hard to keep fighting."

"What," Suki said, pouting, "not going for first blood?"

"Yeah, I'm with Suki," Asami complained, "we're talking a matter of honor here. Someone should at _least _get a freaking _bruise._"

"Right?" Suki added. "I mean, as the only ones who aren't getting laid in this freaking temple, we should get our money's worth out of this entertainment."

Lobsang poked up from behind his cloud, raising his pipe. "I'm not getting laid."

Suki leveled a finger at him. "So, you're on our side in this, right?"

Lobsang smiled his usual serene grin and bowed his head. "Naturally, my ladies."

Asami pumped a fist up-and-down in the air. "_Sweet._"

Sokka felt his shoulders slump. "Wait…I didn't actually want to get _hurt._" He pouted, and threw his heart into it. "I _always _get hurt…"

His sister shot him a glare. "Hey, no backing out."

"Besides," Azula said, giving him something that could only be called a _leer, _"this was _your _idea."

Sokka sighed. "_Fine. _Make that bruise good, Zuko."

"Oh," Zuko replied, "I plan to."

And thus, the duel was set, for dawn the next day, and by _dawn, _they of course meant, _whenever we feel like it_. Sokka sat back and clasped his hands behind his head, feeling like a genius. No one was talking about the war, no one was thinking about Avatars. Everyone was smiling and laughing, and, sure, it would be temporary, but it was about time for a good laugh.

_And besides, _he reflected, thinking of what was, to be honest, his primary motivation, _if this doesn't get Toph out of that room, I'll eat my left shoe._

* * *

So, there I was, writing this story, and I realized, _I kind of have the Krew in a holding pattern for the moment, and shit's gotten pretty dark and depressing, so why not take a page from the show's book and randomly have a little fun? _Then I imagined Zuko and Sokka having some kind of "fight" for the sole purpose of making everyone laugh, realized that only Sokka would come up with something that patently ridiculous, and one of my favorite chapters that I've written came into being.

Because, see, I needed a moment of amusement, and so did you.

For those playing the home game, _exactly how slutty to dress for a date _is something that my wife told me about, not too long ago. Apparently, for girls, at least, it really is a delicate balancing act that's far more difficult to work out than one would initially think. For the curious, my wife's move, early on in our relationship, was to always unbutton the top two buttons of her work shirts. Not three, that would be _too _easy, just two, to let me know that she was amenable to the idea.

For those even more curious, her choice had the desired effect. But then again, two played at that game; it was back in my substitute teaching days, and I often spent a good ten minutes fiddling with exactly how loose my tie should be, to send the same message.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Asami trains. Stay tuned!


	38. ASAMI IV

ASAMI

"ALRIGHT, WHY AM I DOING THIS AGAIN?"

It was a good question, or, at least, Asami thought so. She was currently standing in the middle of one of the temple's training fields, novices bustling about, giggling and training, while she continued to stand, completely still, arms outstretched, holding a spear. Only, it _wasn't _a spear. It was, in fact, _six _spears, bound into a kind of bundle, and it was quite heavy, _thank you very much. _And she had been standing there, holding this bundle, for a good, oh…_for-fucking-__**ever. **_So, yes, Asami felt she had good grounds to ask her question.

Not that her trainers noticed. Suki and Azula were, at that moment, standing right in front of her, deep in conversation about the offensive use of fans. Suki was waving the fan (_which, as far as Asami could see, was more like a __**fan-shaped dagger **__than, well, an actual __**fan**_) she had brought with her from Kyoshi, snapping it back and forth, showing various moves and forms. Azula, for her part, looked unconvinced, but open-minded.

Asami grimaced. Her arms were beginning to ache, her muscles quivering beneath her skin, and, in spite of the fact that winter was still very much present (as evidenced by the snow that dappled the buildings and the streets of the temple, in spite of the sun shining forth from bright blue skies), sweat was beginning to trickle down her brow and pool in the small of her back. _I'm going to be smelly today. _Which, oddly enough, didn't bother her.

It never ceased to amaze her, the things that didn't bother her anymore.

"Um…_guys?"_

Her trainers had been conversing in rapid-fire Guangzhou (_or so Asami assumed_), but when Azula turned a bored gaze at her, she switched back into Putonghua, since all three spoke that. "Do _what, _Sato-san?"

Asami gritted her teeth. Whenever training was in session, which, to be fair, was the training Asami had demanded, she was always addressed as _Sato-san. Because __**reasons, **_Azula had explained. Even Sokka followed this rule without complaint, when he joined them. "Well, why am I…um…" She tilted her head towards the spears. "You know, _this._"

"Because we told you to, Sato-san," was Azula's answer, couched in her haughtiest voice, which took some doing. She was a princess, after all.

Suki, though, looked a bit more sympathetic. "Well, there's more to it than that. Shouldn't we tell her, Zula?"

Azula gave a look like she had just bitten into something sour. "Um…_no. _Did they explain the strange things they made you do during your novitiate in the Order?"

Suki gave a slow, measured nod. "No, they didn't…" She turned to Asami, still looking sympathetic. "Sorry, Sato-san, but half of training is learning how to do things by instinct, without question."

"You're also supposed to be able to figure things out without being told," Azula added, sounding quite snappy.

Asami sighed. "Right…I guess that's fair…" _And I did ask for this. Hell, I didn't even ask. I fucking __**demanded. **__Why? Because I'm an idiot. _"Can you at least tell me how long I'm supposed to hold them?"

This time, Suki answered. "Why," she said, sounding like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "until you drop them, of course."

Asami could only sigh. "Right, _of course. _How silly of me."

"At least you know," Azula observed. "See? Already making progress." She turned back to Suki, returning to Guangzhou to say what sounded to Asami a lot like, _Right, so, show me that move again…_

Asami sighed, gritted her teeth, and re-committed herself to holding her spears. This wasn't the first time they had made her do something like this, though six spears bound together seemed a bit excessive. Still…

_I wanted this. I asked for this. I demanded this. __**I needed this.**_

_I still need this._

_ Mako died protecting me._

_ Ty died protecting her friends, which included me._

_ Mai died __**for me.**_

_ I will never cower behind a wall again._

_ I will never be helpless again._

_**Never.**_

She took a deep breath, let it out, and continued to hold her spears, thinking about how it could be worse. At least they weren't coming at her from all sides with staffs, like the day before. _Thank the __**gods **__for Katara._

_If it wasn't for her, I would be walking off those bruises for __**weeks**__._

* * *

For those playing the home game, Asami is basically experienced a form of strength training. A little known fact (well, probably not _little known, _but not general knowledge, from what I can see) is that, in, for example, sword training, you practice with wooden swords that have iron weights inside. They weigh upwards of two-to-three times as much as actual swords, and the purpose is to build up your muscles and endurance. That way, when you get a real sword, it ain't no thing to swing it around all day.

Asami probably knows this, somewhere in her head, but as anyone who's performed strenuous physical activity can tell you (just ask someone who went through military Basic Training), things tend to get a bit muddled as the day goes on.

I have to say, the character arc I've put Asami through is one of my favorites in this fic. Not sure why; maybe it's a lingering feeling that they never did quite enough with the girl in LOK after Book 1. *shrugs* Or whatever.

Moving on! In the next chapter, a long awaited (I'm assuming) moment of Zutara fluff. Stay tuned!


	39. ZUKO III

ZUKO

"SO, HOW DID THE MEETING GO?"

For once, Zuko had gotten to the bedroom before his wife had. He had been surprised, since the meeting she had had to skip, for reasons that were banished from conversation in the room that they shared, had run a bit long. He was propped up in the bed, pillows piled behind his back, a book in his hands, and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He looked up from the book, craning his head so his good eye could watch as his wife closed the door, moved to the dresser, and began stripping off her clothes and putting her hair in its nighttime ponytail.

He swallowed hard, having completely forgotten what his book was about. _Nothing important, that's for sure. _He remembered enough of it at that point, as his wife pulled her shirt up and over her head, to recall that he had picked it up in the temple's library precisely because it looked silly and pointless, mindless drivel to relax to. "Um," he said, eye wide as he watched the proceedings at the dresser, "need any help?"

She shot him a look that made certain parts of his anatomy stir and threw him a wink. "Maybe tomorrow. For now, _spill._" She turned back to the mirror and pressed on. "I hope it wasn't a big deal that I had to miss."

He shook his head, valiantly turning his gaze back to his book, a process that took an outrageous amount of willpower. _What? _he said to himself, as he was wont to do. _I missed her this evening. So sue me. _"Nah," he said, "I mean, everyone missed you, and my sister kept making cracks about the notes I was taking for you, but they understood."

The reason why everyone understood was, again, something they just didn't talk about. They rarely did, and tonight, the spell Sokka's little _act _had cast over their group was still holding strong, and, by unspoken agreement, neither of them were willing to break it.

"That's good," she said, frowning as she leaned towards the mirror, examining something in her teeth. "So, anything new?"

He quickly ran through the proceedings, pointing at his notebook, which she would, naturally, peruse at her leisure. The basic gist of things was that the end of winter was approaching, and the game pieces were very much making their opening moves. Several rebel armies were massing to the north and northeast of the central region of the Earth Kingdom, which, of course, included Ba Sing Se, the _jewel in the crown, _so to speak. Each of these armies, by this point, had sizeable Fire Nation contingents in them. As for the mutiny in the northwest, the entire region was under control. Yu Dao had surrendered, the humanitarian crisis was in hand, and a large army of mutineers was gathering around Yu Dao itself. They had even received a surprise gift, in the form of a good half of the Northern Fleet, which had mutinied and come over to their cause.

"And what about the rest of the world?" she asked, sliding on her nightdress and racing across the cold stone floor before hurling herself into his waiting arms. "Is it confirmed about my people?"

He smiled, kissing her softly on the forehead. "It is. The Southern Water Tribes have officially gone to war, and, from what we can see, the Southern Fleet is doing nothing to stop them. Their ships are either actively helping, or running back to the Homeland."

She snuggled in, even as she frowned. "But…"

He grimaced. "They still want Azula and I to return to the Homeland, and snatch the throne out from under my uncle."

Her answer to that was to snuggle even deeper. "Do we know anything that's going on back in the Fire Nation?"

He shook his head. "Nothing reliable. Something's happening, though, something big. General Taira," that being, one of the highest ranking generals who had come over to their side, "thinks that my uncle is planning on leading an army over here himself, probably to Omashu."

"Hmm…in which case…it might actually be a good idea for you, Azula, and I to head over there. You know, prevent it from looking like some kind of Fire Nation civil war."

"Right, but…_you?_ Since when were you coming?"

"Since I was your wife? Or, also, since Colonel Kotaro pointed out that I'm basically your best argument in favor of peace? Or-"

He sighed as he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray he kept by the bed. "Alright, alright, _I get it. _Still…I…um…told them I'd have to think about it. Azula did, too."

She nodded. "Good. It needs careful consideration."

_Because the world knows that the Avatar has truly come, since that incident with all the statues. They know that, but they don't know that the Avatar is in a coma. The armies here in the Earth Kingdom are expecting to follow the Avatar. It's the only thing that is guaranteed to keep them together._

_ But we can't tell them the truth._

_ And we won't talk about it._

_ Not right now._

"Right," she said, from deep within the burrow she had made of his arms and his chest. "So, anything else?"

He rattled off a few things, housekeeping details, mostly. "Oh, and we haven't heard from the North yet."

She sighed. "I wouldn't expect too much out of there."

"But they could send us healers, at the very least. That's all we've asked for."

"I know…still…after what happened…"

He cut in quick. "I know. We're trying to keep our hopes from getting too high." He pressed his lips into the top of her head, breathed deep. He loved the way she smelled. Even after a day of running around and healing and training, she still smelled like her shampoo. It was this exquisite stuff, a bouquet of scents he didn't even bother to pick out. "Hey? I love you."

She sighed and nuzzled. "I love you, too." She tilted her head up, gave him a peck on the lips, and nuzzled back in. "So, tell me about this book."

He groaned. "It's dogshit. I might as well just read it to you."

"Aw, you know how much I love that. Get to it, husband."

"Yes, wife."

He read until he dozed off. They never did talk about Korra.

It hurt them both too much.

* * *

You know, I often feel like I've performed a little _Game of Thrones _type trick (which is appropriate, because Girl with the Dragon Heart - whom I haven't heard from in far too long, you really should R&amp;R her latest) on you guys with this fic. My brother, who's a bit of a lughead (though, in his defense, he's only twenty), once said of GoT: "I first watched it because I heard there were boobs. By the sixth episode, whenever I saw boobs, I was annoyed, because they were getting in the way of the plot." Then he punched me at the end of the ninth episode.

What I'm saying is, considering the amount of Zutara fluff I lured you all in with, I've had steadily decreasing amounts, and none so far in this book. Problem solved!

For those playing the home game, I really do stand behind reading _pointless drivel. _Mainly because, as long as you enjoy it, there's no such thing as _pointless drivel. _Most of the time, I enjoy shit by authors of the type for which just listing them out makes it clear I paid too much for my degree. Other times, though, I grab a random Lee Child novel (and I'm using that term lightly) from Half-Price Books and just enjoy being mindlessly entertained.

Oh, and my wife and I really are this gross. _So sue us._

Moving on! In the next chapter, we pop into Ba Sing Se, and see what Jin is up to. Stay tuned!


	40. JIN I

JIN

CH'EN JIN PULLED HER CLOAK TIGHT ABOUT HER BODY AND SHIVERED. The winter had been brutal and cold, but, here in the middle of what was once (_and, Jin prayed, would some day once more be_) the Earth Kingdom, it had begun to lose its grip. The sun shined more and more, and it had been a good two weeks since it had last snowed. During the days, there were even occasional moments of something that could be called _warmth._

_ Not that any of that helps me now. _No matter that winter was on its way out, it was still _cold. _So cold, in fact, that every time Jin exhaled, her breath hung in thick, ragged clouds, drifting up to the air, a lot like the tobacco from her father's pipe.

_Or, like the clouds being produced by my little __**friend…**_

"You know," Jin said, eyes locked on the river, "you really should stop smoking those. We're trying to present an image here."

Beside her, her companion (_for lack of a better word_) shrugged. Normally, the girl, who was barely fourteen-years-old, would've been almost indistinguishable from a boy her age. She was thin and willowy, with rough hands and a penchant for finding some way, no matter what, to get covered in dirt. Tonight, though, the girl had been squeezed into a dress, her hair done up and her face carefully painted, so that she looked _quite _the young lady.

Jin thought she looked nice, for a change, though the _young lady _would've begged to differ.

"Yeah, well," the girl replied, taking a long drag from a cigarette whose origins Jin could only guess at, "you can shove your _image _up your ass. If I've gotta stand here in the cold, stuffed in a freaking _dress, _I'm going to have a smoke." She took another drag, blew it out. "You really should have one; it'll keep you warm."

Jin had to struggle not to roll her eyes. "Smoking is for _boys, _Smellerbee, and it's _definitely _not for young ladies out for a stroll with their boyfriends."

Smellerbee, whose real name Jin had always felt was none of her business, just huffed. "A lot of things are for _boys, _Jin, and you do them."

"Maybe so," Jin admitted, "but smoking smells bad, and it's bad for your lungs. Let the boys have that one."

Smellerbee turned to her, craning her neck to get a good look. "Bad for your lungs? Says who?"

"Says anyone who listens to an old man who's smoked all his life wheeze if he so much as walks down some stairs."

Smellerbee looked unimpressed. "You ever consider that that old man's lungs wheeze because he's a, you know, _old man?_"

Jin just sighed. "Believe me or not, but if this plan is to work, you'll need to ditch that when we head back into the city."

"Meh, whatever. Also, I think our _escorts _are here."

Jin looked up, and saw that the girl was right. Sliding out of the darkness came a boat, men bustling about on it and, from what she could see, several dark forms huddled near the bow. She turned to the other girls who had come with her, all similarly dressed and dolled up, gave them a nod. The girls, most of whom had been sitting down, looking as bored as humanly possible, stood, clustering forward and checking each other's hair.

"You ready, Smellerbee?"

Smellerbee sent her cigarette spinning off into the river. "Ready as I'll ever be. Maybe this time they got us some cute ones."

Jin allowed herself a smile. "Maybe." A lantern flashed to life on the boat, held aloft by a tall silhouette. Jin watched as the lantern danced a pattern in the air. She leaned down, snatched the lantern that was resting at her feet, held it up, and made it dance the proper response. The two lanterns held a short conversation, communicating many important and valuable things, while looking to the casual observer like nothing more than…well…_nothing._

Jin felt her grip on the lantern's top ring tighten. Her heart raced, crawling up into her throat, and sweat began to gather on her palms, in spite of the cold. She was always nervous, whenever they did something like this. It never failed. Later, she would always play it cool, put on an air of _adventurous disdain. _But the truth was? No matter how many times they played these little games, she was scared to death.

She took a deep, calming breath, slowly let it out. Not for the first time, she wished, with all her heart, her trembling, terrified heart, that this wasn't necessary. Ba Sing Se was a big city, her outer walls thrown down by Fire Lord Iroh, after the Fall; smuggling most of these _rebels _in was quite easy. Just filter them in with the peasants bringing their wares to market, or scatter them among the ever-present refugees, and all was well. Sure, one-in-fifty got caught, sometimes more, sometimes less, but that was a risk one could take with most.

Some of the men they had to smuggle in, however, couldn't be risked. Thus, _this._

The boat didn't stop. Instead, it tilted towards the river bank, slowing as it slid along the stone embankment. The whole process couldn't have lasted more than a minute, and when it was over, about a dozen men were shaking themselves off, rising from where they had landed after leaping from their ride.

Jin bit down on a smirk. _At least no one fell in this time, even if it's always good for a laugh. Nervous laughter, sure, but laughter all the same._

One of the men was stepping forth from the others, obviously the leader. Jin gave him a quick once-over while she went to meet him. He was over average height, though with the thick, strong build typical to an earthbender. He was young, too, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two, about her age, and his mouth was framed by a thick, but well-trimmed mustache which accompanied a little soul patch below his bottom lip.

She found herself smiling. _Handsome, too. That was nice of them._

They stopped before each other. He bowed, and she returned it. "Welcome to Ba Sing Se, friend. I am Ch'en Jin. I trust your journey went well?"

He smiled, and she found herself liking his smile, and when he spoke, his voice was deep, but gentle. He really did seem to be a nice boy.

Which was why she resolved, right then and there, to make sure her mother never met him. _I'd never hear the end of it._

"As well as could be expected," he replied, his Putonghua roughened by a thick southerner's accent, making it obvious that it was not his native tongue. "We're here, at least." He pressed a hand to his chest, bowing his head. "I am Lieutenant Lai Haru, and we are honored to be here, on the eve of our great liberation."

She shook off her jitters and frowned, her eyes flicking across the haircuts of Haru and the other men. She shook her head. "Didn't they tell you to grow out your hair?"

"Pardon?" he asked, looking confused as he ran a hand over his short, close-cropped, dark brown hair.

She sighed, struggling not to roll her eyes. "Your haircuts scream _rebels_. They're supposed to make you grow them out before you come."

He nodded. "Ah. Makes sense." He bowed. "Alas, they did not. Apologies, my lady."

She felt a flush, a forced it down. "I'm afraid I'm no lady, just a commoner. Still," she bowed her head, "thank you for your courtesy." She opened the gate on the lantern, blew it out, handed it to Smellerbee to quickly stash in the usual place. Turning back to her _date_, she put on her most demure smile. "Now, good sir, if you would be so kind…"

He threaded his arm through hers with only the barest of nervous hesitation. "It would be an honor, my lady."

With that, everyone paired off, even Smellerbee, who joined arms with a spindly boy who looked utterly terrified of her. Everything done, they formed a short of _gaggle, _striding away from the deserted riverbank. By the time they stepped once more into the light of the city itself, they did not at all look like a group of rebel officers being smuggled right under the noses of the authorities.

No, they looked like a dozen-or-so young couples, promenading through the streets on a group date, which, after all, is the only proper way to do things. They went so far as to sit down to dinner and take in a street show, as was only natural. They were stopped twice, and only at Fire Nation military checkpoints, where the soldiers were too busy making eyes at the girls to give the boys' papers more than cursory once-overs.

_Or, at least, _Jin thought to herself, smiling, _that's what it looked like to the prying eye._

Everyone was even back home before curfew.

* * *

I found myself intrigued by how the rebels in the city were smuggling trained rebels in from outside. I realized that most could be smuggled in easily, but officers and skilled earthbenders might attract more attention, or be too valuable to risk. Thus, this, which is not that crazy, actually. This was a real way that underground resistance groups smuggle people and supplies through checkpoints and blockades. Audrey Hepburn, who was burn in Holland, actually used to do this to German checkpoints during World War Two, using her cuteness to distract soldiers while her allies basically walked right past them.

If you want to see this in action, watch the beginning of _The Longest Day. _It's pretty much the primary issue with armies being filled with young guys far from home.

Also, how about the appearances of a wild Smellerbee and a wild Haru? Cool, huh?

Moving on! In the next chapter, we ponder if words can exist when you have no air to breathe. Stay tuned!


	41. WORDS WITHOUT AIR

WORDS WITHOUT AIR

THEY TALKED. How, Korra didn't know, and didn't understand. There, in the room that wasn't a room, sitting across from each other at a table that wasn't a table, perched on chairs that weren't chairs, they talked. She found herself thinking of the time before, how long, she could no longer remember. A question, a _philosophical conundrum, _asked by a kind man with a bald head and a serene smile. _If a tree falls and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound? _She frowned. _Lobsang, his name was __**Lobsang. **__Sokka loved the question, debated it for hours. He liked things like that, questions without real answers, questions that could be parsed and debated. I never got the point. Even as Sokka and Katara got into a shouting match about what the answer should be, I just couldn't follow._

_Or could I? _She shook her head. Maybe it didn't matter, just as it didn't matter how she could form words and speak sentences when no air passed her lips.

They talked, and Korra tried very, very hard not to sound like a lost little girl.

The woman was unlike anyone Korra had ever seen. Everything about her seemed unnatural, unreal. She was tall, thin, moving with a grace that did not seem possible. Everything about her was white, a white that seemed more an _absence_ of color than an actual _color. _Her clothes, her skin, her hair, _everything, _was that same white, white like the room, white that wasn't white. The only color was a thread of blue, blue that wasn't blue. It shimmered and glowed, shifting and twisting. It never moved, not that Korra could see, but every time she shifted her eyes, or blinked, it looked different.

How it looked different, Korra could not even _begin _to explain.

The woman started. Korra couldn't help but dislike her voice, couldn't stop the fear that crackled up and down her spine.

Her voice, quite simply, sounded like nothing even remotely human.

"You're very confused, I know," the woman said, her mouth pressed into a thin line, quirking up into a strange smile. "You're feeling lost, disoriented, and confused. I'm right, aren't I? At least…" She frowned. "That's what they always tell me…"

Korra ignored her feelings. All they were doing was making her head hurt. "I…I don't know what I am…I…" She looked up, though she didn't remember having looked down. "Who are you?"

The woman dipped her head. "We already discussed that, my dear. At least…I think we did…" She laughed, a strange, ethereal thing that tinkled like chimes in the wind. "It's all so hard to keep track of, sometimes. Things don't always happen to me, in the order that they happen to you."

Korra didn't even try to figure that out. Somehow, she sensed that she would end up just as confused by the end as she was now, at the beginning.

"I…no, we talked about it. You're Raava."

A smile. "Yes, that is what you call me. It's as good a name as any other. Do you know why you're here?"

Korra could only shake her head. At least, she thought she was. A question occurred to her, out of nowhere, out of the white that was blue, the blue that was white. "Is…is that what you really look like?"

The woman waved a hand through the air, gesturing at her…_body? _It was all Korra could come up with. "This? I'm afraid not. It is just a…oh, what's the word…_form, _shall we say, an image that I formed from your mind, to put you at ease."

_Then it's failing, miserably. _Korra didn't know where the words came from, but she was thankful for them.

The voice that said them sounded like her own.

"What do you really look like?" she asked.

Raava just shook her head. "It would only frighten you, my dear, mostly because you would not be able to understand what you were seeing. I am the Earth itself; I exist beyond the realm of humanity. I have shape and color and dimensions you would not even be able to comprehend. Trust me, as I learned long ago, it's better for me to appear this way."

Korra nodded, mostly because it seemed the thing to do. "Oh, okay…" She felt a pressure on her bottom lip, felt her teeth begin to clamp onto it. She stopped herself, grabbed the urge and pushed it away, just as she clasped her hands in her lap, away from her hair.

_Katara was always telling me to stop chewing my lip, stop toying with my hair…_

_ Katara…_

She looked around. "Where am I? Why am I here?"

The woman sighed. "As for where you are…that's complicated. Let's just say that we're within you, and leave it at that. As for _why, _well…do you know anything about your history?"

Korra shrugged. "A little…? I mean, I didn't even know I was the Avatar until I was twelve. I kind of got a…a _crash course _in it."

The woman's eyebrow popped. "A what now?"

"A…_nevermind. _It was just something that Sokka always said."

"Sokka?"

"My…my big brother, I guess, or uncle, really. He…has a unique way of putting things sometimes."

Raava nodded. "Ah, right." She sighed. "It's so hard to keep track of these things sometimes. You humans love your names, though it's difficult to tell you apart. But, I believe you had a question. The answer is simple: You are to be put on trial."

Korra felt her heart stop, turn into a hunk of ice, and drop down into the pit of her stomach. All of this she felt, even though it made no sense, because none of this was real, was it?

_None of it is real, and it is all more real than anything else I have ever experienced…_

"_Trial…?"_

"Yes. At least…I think that's what it's called. Words are so strange, don't you think? So limiting…and yet, you humans can't seem to live without them, can you?" She shrugged. "Oh, well, it is what it is. There are so many things I still don't understand, but that's why I bonded with Wan. You know of Wan, correct?"

Korra nodded. "The first Avatar."

The woman smiled. "Yes, the first. You see…for…oh…how to put it into terms you would be able to understand…let's just say, _for a long time, _I was locked in…let's say…_battle, _with Vaatu. You know of Vaatu, too, I presume?"

Another nod. Korra couldn't seem to be able to stop herself from constantly nodding. _Katara would be driven to distraction, right about now, with all the nodding. _"The Evil One." By instinct, she made the sign to ward off the Evil Eye, though it seemed pointless.

Raava, though, didn't seem to notice. "Hmm…that _is _what you humans insist on calling him. It would be better, though, to say that, while I am the light that exists in all things, he is the dark. There can be no darkness without light, no light without darkness. We have fought for all eternity, and will continue to do so, until the end."

"How…how can eternity _end? _Does that not defeat the purpose of eternity?"

The woman giggled. "Don't worry about it; it's just a turn of phrase. However, back to Wan…or did we already discuss that?"

Korra shook her head. "No, we didn't, not yet."

Raava looked unconvinced. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Well then…in the beginning, you see, the spirits walked the earth, right alongside humans. Gods, spirits, _kami, _whatever name you use, they were there. And they served either me, or Vaatu, and on and on we battled, heedless of the chaos and destruction that we caused. Then, one day, a young man appeared before me-"

"Wan," Korra interjected.

Raava nodded. "Yes, young Wan. Without making things too...oh...what's the word...right..._complicated..._Wan came to me, and told me of the pain and suffering my war was inflicting upon the world, how humans were at the mercy of the spirits, and, in many ways, vice versa. He begged me to find a way to end it, to bring some sort of _balance _to existence. That's when I realized what I had to do."

"You merged with him, and began the Avatar Cycle."

"Well, the process was actually a bit more drawn-out and complicated than that, but yes, more or less. I merged with him, and, together, we locked Vaatu into the Tree of Time."

The woman's words came back to Korra, from before. _Remember the tree…_

_ Remember the tree…_

Raava continued. "We locked Vaatu into the Tree of Time, and closed off the Spirit Portal. You see, what I had realized is that, in order for there to be balance, there must be separation. Things must be kept apart from each other, so that they can compliment each other. Vaatu is confined to his tree, I to my Avatar, the spirits to the Spirit World, humanity to their world. The same with the elements, and the people who practice them. Do you see? Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?"

Korra shook her head. She didn't. She thought of everything she had seen, everything she had experienced. She thought of her friends, her _true _family, _her Krew, _as Sokka had so aptly put it. She saw a wedding, fire and water joining hands, crossing the divide with a kiss. She saw friends, family, lovers…

_She saw Toph…_

"But…" She stopped, paused, struggled for words, words without air. "But…separation is a myth. It's never really existed, and now, it's shattered. The whole world is one, unlike it's ever been. The nations are all mixed in together. It's-"

"It's chaos," Raava cut in. Her voice was firm, even if her face remained kind. _Or, at least, so it looked to Korra, so she wanted to believe. _"Balance is nothing but a distant memory. Do you know why that happened?"

That, Korra knew. "Because Sozin was a madman, and unleashed a war the likes of which the world has never seen."

It was an answer that seemed obvious, to everyone Korra had ever met. Raava, though, seemed unimpressed. "No," she said, "the world is in the state it is in because _an Avatar failed in his duties." _She smiled, and Korra knew she was trying to be kind. "I know you…_like, _is the word, I believe, I know you _like _Aang. I liked him, too; that's why I chose him. Roku can be hard and cold and imperious; I felt that the world needed a kinder, gentler Avatar. You see? _Balance. _But then, the time came, and Aang chose his people over the world, and you can see what's happened."

_People coming together, former enemies becoming friends, we're finally seeing through the lies that divided us, that led us inevitably down this dark, monstrous path. That's what I see._

She didn't say that. She didn't know why.

Maybe it had something to do with what Aang had been trying to tell her, what seemed like centuries ago.

"What has any of this to do with me?"

Raava sighed. "It has _everything _to do with you. You are making the same mistake, Korra. You are choosing to put your feelings over your duties. The duty of the Avatar is to maintain the balance of the world, not to get involved in little squabbles, or intervene in individual battles. The Avatar is above and beyond all of that, and you have put everything at risk by ignoring that, time and time again. That is why you must go before your past lives, and answer for your transgressions."

Korra let herself chew her lip this time. She felt that Katara, were she there, wouldn't fault her. "Why must I go before them? Why can't you make the decision?"

"Because I'm not human, now, am I, Korra? I do not fully understand humanity, and it does not truly understand me. So I must rely on the counsel of the humans who stand at the bridge between you and I, and let their wisdom guide me. Do you understand now?"

Korra knew she should lie, but she couldn't.

She didn't quite know why.

"No, I don't."

Raava just smiled. "Don't worry, you will."

"When?"

"Well, right now, I think."

The door on the other side of the room that wasn't a room opened.

All Korra saw was light, light, followed by…

_Darkness…_

* * *

I swear, this chapter took, like _ten goddamn tries _to get right. It was infuriating. For one thing, there's a lot going on, and with moments like this, it can be risky to get pedantic, or just give in and start parroting Canon, which would defeat the purpose of the exercise. For another, one of the things I'm trying to do is _avoid repetition. _I'm trying very hard to do new and different things than anything I've done before. I can only hope I'm even somewhat succeeding.

This is one of those chapters than can really be ruined by too much explanation. So, without much further ado, I'm going to get rolling on the next, which will, of course, come tomorrow morning.

That said, if that chapter title doesn't get you humming Jordin Sparks's "No Air" on repeat, while feeling vaguely uncomfortable that Chris Brown is singing in it, I don't know what to do with you.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Suki gets ready to watch the so-called _fight. _Stay tuned!


	42. SUKI II

SUKI

THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE MORNING, SUKI WOULD LATER DECIDE, WAS NOT AT ALL THE FIGHT ITSELF. After all, it wasn't much of a _fight. _Everything had a kind of…_carnival atmosphere. _It seemed like the entire temple had turned out, the temple and most of the Ninety-Fourth. Off-duty soldiers jostled with young Air Nomads, children chased each other around, and everyone had bright smiles and happy faces. Food and drink vendors mingled with the crowd, and it seemed as if the air was alive with the sound of a good half-dozen languages, maybe more, maybe less, but all of them happy, light…

Suki smiled, closed her eyes, and gave herself over to the world.

_Carefree._

The war seemed very, very far away that day. Barely five weeks it had been, since the battle, and the temple still bore the scars. Buildings were gutted, wreckage was still being removed from the streets, the non-stop funerals had only recently finally run their course. Somewhere in the camp of the Ninety-Fourth, as she knew only all too well, was a small, non-descript building, and in that building, a fire burned, bright and eternal, sending shadows skittering over hundreds of ceramic urns, marching off into the darkness.

But she didn't see any of that. She saw a wide, broad open square, the main square of the temple, decked out in festive colors and decorations. She opened her eyes, and watched as three Air Nomad girls giggled, while three Fire Nation soldiers, none of them even old enough to be able to grow a decent beard, struggled bravely to flirt their way through the language barrier. And, judging by the way the girls kept biting their lips and playing with their hair, the soldiers' struggle was not in vain.

There were no dark thoughts that day, nor even clouds. The bakers and the cooks had worked overtime, and vendors mingled through the crowds, doing brisk business indeed. People were even taking bets, though what they could possibly be taking bets on, seeing as the fight was an intentional farce, Suki couldn't even _begin _to guess. Even the weather was cooperating, the sun shining down from a sky so blue it was almost blinding, an endless bowl stretching above their heads and off into the distant horizon.

She sighed, and smiled. She couldn't stop smiling; none of them could. They were perched on the main hall's steps, steps that were still scored and pitted and burned, not that any of them paid attention to that. Katara sat to her left, arm-in-arm with Azula, and Asami sat to her right, looking quite relieved to have the day off from training. They sat there, the four of them, giggling like school girls, passing a wineskin back and forth, switching from one language to the next, seemingly at random, opting for whichever tongue seemed to work best for the topic at hand.

That, Suki felt later, was her second-favorite part, the _sub-highlight, _if one will. The way they threw all caution, all darkness, to the wind, and just outright ignored the monsters prowling off in the shadows. They talked of hair, and dresses, and accessories. They must've done and re-done each other's hair a dozen times apiece. Azula and Katara traded stories from their brothers' childhoods, each one more embarrassing than the last, while Asami and Suki linked arms and, using careful, purely scientific methods, rated the butts of every young man they could see.

And when the fight came, it was worth every second of waiting. Sokka and Zuko put their hearts into it, refusing to take anything seriously, while the girls cheered with wild abandon, Azula for Sokka, Katara for Zuko, both loudly calling for their significant others to beat the other's asses into the ground. Suki and Asami even got their promised bruises, though no blood, so there was that.

But even the fight wasn't the best part, the highlight. The best part came right at the beginning, when the combatants made their entrance. There was shouting and cheering, gongs ringing, horns blowing, the men of the Ninety-Fourth shouting _banzai, _over and over again. The crowd parted to let the two men in, and they entered, carrying upon their shoulders the best part of all.

For the two young men had pressed their left and right shoulders together, and perched in that little cradle, smiling like no one had ever smiled before, was Toph.

Yes, Suki got a little teary-eyed. What of it?

The boys made their entrance, carried Toph around the square, pumping up the crowd. Later, Suki would find out that Lobsang had volunteered to sit with Korra, and that he would spend the time reading her stories from an old Air Nomad children's book, but at that time? She just didn't think about it. Instead, she watched, until the boys stopped in front of the girls. Toph thanked them both, loudly and obscenely, then bounded to the ground, plopping herself down next to Azula, snatching the wineskin from the former princess's hands and downing what looked to Suki like half of it in when gulp. Toph wiped her lips, let out a belch that would've put Sokka to shame, shoved the wineskin back into Azula's lap, and belched once more.

Everyone stared. They couldn't help it.

Toph rounded on them, looking rather put-out. "The fuck are you four staring at?"

All four of them immediately chorused, _"Nothing!"_

Toph nodded. "Thought so." She reached over, snatched Azula's pack of cigarettes from the girl's pocket, stuck one between her lips, and stared at Azula expectantly. "Well? You gonna do your thing, or are you planning on lighting it with your mind?"

Azula giggled, popped a flame from her thumb, and lit the cigarette. "You know," she said, looking _quite _amused, "that would be an interesting trick…"

"It would be," Toph admitted. "You should get on that."

Azula's giggle turned into outright laughter. "Right away, my lady!"

Toph rolled her eyes. "Whatever. So, I've got twenty _yen _says that Snoozles manages to accidently smack Sparky in the balls within the first ten minutes. Anyone want to take that action?"

The other four girls put their heads together, and discovered that they had just enough pocket change to make twenty _yen. _Thus, naturally, they took the bet.

They lost.

Suki didn't even mind.

* * *

The _letting off of steam _is actually a vital part of dealing with any kind of stressful situation, especially a long-term one. It's pretty much the reason organizations like the USO exist.

For those playing the home game, or playing in the non-American part of the world (you know, _most of it_), the USO is an organization that puts on entertainment for American troops stationed overseas, especially in combat zones. Their shows are intentionally as ridiculous and out-there as humanly possible, and if you've ever known a soldier, you'll know that the troops love it, the more ridiculous, the better. Because, sometimes, either you burst into tears, or you laugh your heart out.

Most people, the Krew included, would rather laugh, if at all possible.

By the way, if you're curious as to why a former prince like Zuko would participate in something like this...feudal Japan, like most feudal countries, had a long tradition of high-born individuals taking part in comic entertainment to amuse their troops and vassals. It actually goes all the way back to Alexander the Great cracking dirty jokes with his troops while on campaign.

Moving on! In the next chapter, I hurt your heart, because of course I do. Stay tuned!


	43. TOPH III

TOPH

"OKAY, AND TRUST ME, THIS IS THE BEST PART. I mean, I know I say every part is the best part, but trust me, _this _is the actual, real deal, _best part. _So, right, you know how I said, Sokka was chasing Zuko around with a big loaf of bread at this point, right? Well, Zuko runs up to one of the officers from the Ninety-Fourth, who was, _apparently, _in Zuko's class at the Academy, don't ask me his name, I can't remember. _Anyways, _so, Sokka's chasing Zuko around, yelling some fucked-up version of your guys' war cry, and Zuko, without missing a beat, leaps into this officer's arms. Well, the officer wasn't prepared, so he dropped Zuko, right? And Sokka flies off the handle, starts berating the officer in you guys' tribal dialect, but he keeps making these weird faces, right? I mean, I don't know about the weird faces, Katara described them to me, did a pretty good job for once. But yeah, Zuko says, the only thing to do is to try it again. And you know what? _They do! _Sokka chases Zuko all the way around the square again, and they do everything _exactly the fucking same. _Same yells, same curse words, same movements, _everything. _And this time, the officer catches Zuko, and everyone cheers, and it was just _great, _only, _it got better. _Because Sokka put on this big show of yelling at Zuko, brandishing that loaf of bread, and what does Zuko do? _He grabs it out of Sokka's hand and takes a big, massive bite out of it. _And Sokka, he doesn't care, he grabs it back and takes a bite out of it himself. And then, Katara was telling me what was happening, her and the others, they kept talking over each other, and I say, _Hey, it's like they're making out through bread! _And Azula and Katara thought that was hysterical, and Azula stands up and says, _Hey, this is supposed to be about defending our honor, not you two discovering who your true love is! _And that sets everyone off, and Zuko and Sokka couldn't stop laughing, and that started a new chant, right? I tell you, I'm good at coming up with dirty songs on the fly, but the novices here? _Gods. _They're fucking _ridiculous. _You wouldn't think it, but they're _pros. _And that's with some of it getting lost in translation through Azula and her shaky Gorkhali!"

Toph fell back onto the bed, completely out of breath. She felt a little bit dizzy, but it was okay. For the first time in over a month, she was _happy. _She had smiled and laughed and joked and just…_had fun. _She felt good.

She felt _very _good.

She ran her hands through her hair, the covers of the bed soft and warm beneath her back. She was back in her room, the room she now shared with Korra, sprawled across Korra's bed. For at least an hour she had been babbling, on and on and _on, _talking so fast she kept tripping over her own tongue. She felt better than she had since…

_Since…_

"Heh…you know…this reminds me…I don't know why, I really don't, I just…"

For a moment, she didn't tell the story. She was alone with Korra; no one would hear, no one would know. But…it was…_it was personal. _It was a story about Toph acting in exactly the way she spent most of her time mocking Katara for acting. It was silly and kind of stupid and, worst of all, it might even be construed as _cute, _which was something Toph avoided at all costs. So, yeah, she almost didn't tell the story.

But then, she did.

"I ever tell you about Meixiu? Not Meifeng; I know I told you about her, though, trust me, the real story was _much _more _cutesy _than I'll ever admit, _even to you. _But…Meifeng may have been the first girl I kissed, but Meixiu was the first girl I…well…_heh…you get the picture._" Toph took a moment to shake off what was, quite possibly, the first experience she had ever had with feeling _flustered, _and pressed on.

"So, Meixiu…she was one of the daughters of this lord that Dad had to be friends with. Like, Dad didn't like it, because they were actual collaborationists, instead of fake ones, but what can you do? Dad had to make nice. So, they came to the estate, when I was fourteen. I didn't compete in the games that year. I was supposed to, but the Viceroy's wife came up from Omashu, and there were a lot of _metsuke _in town, and Dad didn't want to run the risk of me getting found out before it was time, you know? I mean, I was bummed, but I think Mom and Dad were more bummed. My entry fee had been paid and everything! Then this noble bitch shows up and throws it all out of whack and…heh…"

Toph stopped, pulled herself up, nestling her chin between her knees as she wrapped her arms around her shins.

"Heh…I'm stalling, aren't I? I can see you giving me that look. You're a lot like Katara, you know that? Sometimes, I hear people talk, and they actually think you're at the very least sisters. If you were a bit younger, and Katara a bit older, everyone really would think you were her daughter…though I think you'd like that…anyways…"

She took a deep breath, let it out, carried on.

"So, yeah…I was stuck watching the games from my parents' box, trapped with this annoying family who Dad had to invite into the box for appearances, along with this Viceroy's wife and all of her hangers-on. It sucked…but…just when I thought it couldn't suck anymore, I went for a little walk, or, at least, got up to get one, and there she was standing in front of me…heh…

"I could tell she was pretty, and that her heart was racing a little faster than it should've been, you know what I mean? And she asked if I was going anywhere. I said, _Nah, just going to clear my head. _And she was all, _Yeah, I know what you mean…mind if I come with you? _And for a moment, I thought, you know, that she just figured, since I was blind, I needed an escort, but then I read the signs, and I started to suspect that wasn't it at all. So, I figured, why the fuck not, right? So, I said, _Sure, _and off we went.

"We ended up spending the entire day together. It was _awesome. _I'd never had so much fun. Mom and Dad even talked her parents into letting us go out alone. I mean, sure, we had her old nanny shadowing us everywhere, but we ditched her pretty easy. Later, I found out, the old bag went running back to the mansion and was all, _Oh, gods, I lost them! _And Meixiu's parents started to freak, until Dad was all, _Nah, it's fine, I told the city watch to keep an eye out for them. _And Meixiu's dad was all, _Aren't you worried? _And Dad just laughed, and Mom was all, _What, you never ditched your chaperones when you were their age? It's basically a rite of passage for young people._ And besides, Mom and Dad knew I could handle things, so it was all good.

"And…yeah…I'd never held hands with anyone before, at least…_not like that…_and, it was just…_real nice…_all of it, and not just the…you know…_stuff…_I don't know if you know anything about that yet, probably not, the way your people are…I mean, mine aren't much better, really, but still, at least we admit it _exists, _but…yeah…_yeah…"_

A single tear fell from her eye, trailed down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. She didn't want to. She let it fall, let the moisture cool on her skin.

"It was one of the best days of my life, up to that point. One of the best…_until I met you. _My mom…she…she always used to tell me, _You're meant for something special, saw gua, _that means _silly melon, _there's a story behind that, but, _You're meant for something special, a great, grand, __**Big Adventure, **__waiting for you, somewhere out there. _And you know what? _You are my Big Adventure. _And sure, it's been scary, and horrible, and some…_some bad things have happened, _and I know you blame yourself for a lot of that, but…_but…"_

She had to stop. The words were too thick, too sharp, too painful. She pushed through, swallowed the lump in her throat, wiped her nose, sniffled.

"I don't blame you. I just want you to come back. I want you to come back, so we can figure out where this Big Adventure is going, where it leads. You and me, and all the others, just…_together. _Come back, please, come back. Let's end this war, and live our lives, and ride off into the sunset together. So…please…_come back…_

_ "Please…"_

Korra laid there, completely silent, completely still.

She never said a word.

* * *

I have this strange fear that I'm giving you guys a pathological fear of fluff and fun stuff, especially in this book. I just rarely let a moment pass without kicking my own feels in the balls, much less yours. Yeesh. I don't know why my characters let me do this to them.

So, for those playing the home game: The _making out through bread thing _was an actual thing that happened to me at Band Formal my...oh...junior year, I think. Long story short, the food was crap (naturally), but, for some odd reason, the bread rolls they served were delicious. So, I took two bites of food, pushed it aside, went for the bread rolls. Well, I had one left, and while I wasn't paying attention, my buddy Ryan accidentally (he wasn't paying attention, either) picked up my bread roll and took a bite. Annoyed, I snatched it back from him and took my own bite, and then my date made the same crack Toph made, we all laughed like loons, and I've been waiting to work that anecdote into a story since...well...pretty much since I was sixteen and a junior in high school.

For the curious, I played trombone. I was also debate team captain, and my glasses put Harry Potter to shame. Yup, I was a cool kid. My wife swears that she would've been totally into me in high school, but I'm not sure I believe her. Love you, babe!

Moving on! In the next chapter, it seems I give one of my other knives a turn. Jesus Christ, the fuck is wrong with me? Stay tuned!


	44. AZULA II

AZULA

EVERY TIME A FIRE NATION UNIT SET UP ANYTHING RESEMBLING A PERMANENT CAMP, THERE WAS A BUILDING LIKE THIS. To enter, one first had to pass under a _torii, _after first washing your hands in a bowl of blessed water. You bowed, first before washing your hands, then after washing your hands, before passing under the _torii, _then after passing through. You walked through the front door, where there was a little foyer, for lack of a better word. In an alcove of this foyer was a small, simple shrine, dedicated to the unit's _kami. _You fell to your knees, bowed your forehead to the ground, and it was traditional to offer sacrifice to the _kami _that dwelled within. Then you removed your shoes, which was only proper, and passed through the final door.

Whenever a soldier of the Fire Nation falls in the course of their duty, their remains are burned, the ashes placed in a ceramic urn and returned to their family as soon as possible. Sometimes, though, there would be a delay. Hence, buildings like the one Asami and Azula were in now, where the urns were neatly arrayed, one after the other, along the floor, on wooden shelves, anywhere they could go.

There were four-hundred-and-seventy-three men and boys enshrined in that building that day. Four-hundred-and-seventy-three men and boys…

And one young woman.

Every day at sundown, Tokugawa Azula, the one-time princess, went to that room. Every day, as the sun disappeared below the horizon, she fell to her knees, pressed her forehead to the cold, hard floor, and paid her respects to her friend. In her mind, she prayed to both of them, her two best friends. She bowed to Ty Lee's urn, looked at Ty Lee's urn, but she saw them both, Mai with her frown, Ty Lee with her smile…

She missed them both, very, very much.

"Do you think Ty would like it?"

Beside her, kneeling in the gloom, Asami stirred. She reached out, ran her fingers across the name written on the urn. The urn itself was pink, the brightest pink it was possible to make it. The characters had been written with a girly flourish, more befitting of a note passed in class than a funeral urn, and resting before the urn was a portrait, drawn by Mai, years before, encased with a flowery frame, of Ty Lee, years before, staring off into the distance…

_Smiling her special smile…_

Asami nodded. "You know what? I think she would. I think she'd love it."

Azula sighed, and couldn't help but allow a sad, wistful smile to spread across her face. "Love it? If we'd shown her this before she died, she would've painted it with flowers and birds and butterflies, and put it on her nightstand, and sang songs to it every night."

Asami giggled. Somehow, to Azula, at least, it didn't seem the least bit out of place. "Yeah…she'd probably create a special dance for it or something."

Azula shook her head. Her smile felt less sad now. "_Or something…" _She took a deep breath, let it out. Even now, she didn't feel as sad as she had before. The spell that Sokka's little escapade with her brother had cast had proved stronger than any of them could have guessed. Somehow, hope had filtered back into the air. It had been like a slap in the face, a reminder that, though Korra was for the moment lost to them, they still had each other.

_We are fewer now, and we will be fewer before the end, but…_

_ We can do this._

_ We can do anything._

_ Anything, anything at all, so long as we remember that we have each other…_

She had lost her two best, oldest friends, but she wasn't alone. She had Asami, Suki, Katara, her brother, Toph, Korra when she returned, because she _would return, _Azula knew that, felt it in her bones, she had all of them…

Her smile turned from wistful to something else entirely. _I even kind-of-sort-of have a boyfriend…heh…_

_ Imagine that…_

She sighed. "I have to go back to the Homeland."

Asami pulled her hand away from the urn, ran her fingers through her hair. "I know."

The words caught in Azula's throat, but she swallowed the lump, pressed on. "Things are different back home. Here, there all these young officers, or generals who have risen due to ability, rather than birth…it's different here. But back home…"

"Things will go a lot easier there," Asami finished for her, "if there is a prince and princess at least nominally in charge of the revolution."

Azula nodded. "If two royals show up and say the monarchy has to go, people will be more inclined to believe it. Which…heh…is pretty odd, when you think about it."

"Yeah…when will you have to go?"

Azula closed her eyes. "A week, maybe two, but soon. The campaign season is coming, and if we stay much longer, and my uncle comes, well…"

"This is a revolution, not a civil war. The world needs to see that."

"Precisely." Azula turned to her friend, though she wouldn't have imagined thinking that, not more than two months before. "I never knew you were so attuned to politics, Asami."

Asami smirked. "I wasn't, when you knew me. But that was the old me, you know? I left her behind, back in the Homeland. I…" Her face fell, and she looked down to the floor. "You learn quick out in the real world, or you don't learn at all." She raised her eyes, looked into Azula's. "Know what I mean?"

Azula nodded, and did something she once wouldn't have been able to imagine doing: She reached out her arm, laid it across Asami's shoulders, and pulled the girl in for a good side hug. It was hard for Azula not to laugh. _You're not the only one who's changed over the years, Asami._

_ Not the only one at all…_

"Is Katara going with you?" Asami asked.

Azula nodded. "Yes, she is. Even if she doesn't fully want to, she has to."

Asami sighed. "More politics."

"Always more politics…heh..plus, you know, she thinks I'll need the help keeping my idiot brother in line."

There was a pause, a break, and then Asami spoke, answering the question Azula hadn't even known she was avoiding. "I'm not going with you."

Azula laid her head atop Asami's. "I figured…"

"It would just be…I dunno…I don't think I'm ever going back. I really don't."

Azula looked to the urn, to the portrait. "Are any of us?"

Asami just shook her head. "I don't know."

Azula could only nod.

After all, she didn't know, either.

* * *

Like I said, I'm trying to avoid writing scenes I've written before. I've already written several iterations of the Krew (and, before, the Gaang) hashing out where they need to go and why. So, I decided to try and do things a little bit differently. I hope it's going well so far.

Also, you know, _feels._

Moving on! In the next chapter, Lobsang is his usual kind old man. Stay tuned!


	45. LOBSANG II

LOBSANG

THE DOOR WAS OPEN WHEN HE CAME TO IT, BUT HE STILL RAPPED HIS KNUCKLES A FEW TIMES BEFORE POPPING HIS HEAD THROUGH THE FRAME. He was, after all, nothing if not insufferably polite. "Mind if I come in, ladies?"

"You know, Baldie," Toph replied, scoffing, "one of these days, I'm gonna get you to start taking a page out of my book, and kicking the fucking door off its hinges and doing a somersault into a room. _That's _how you make an entrance."

Lobsang chuckled, unable to quite put that mental image together in his head. Every time he imagined it, his mental self somehow managed to break something important. "Well," he said, tapping his chin, "how about this: When you manage to make it through an entire day with swearing, _in any language, _I will do exactly that the next time I address a temple's elders."

Toph rolled her eyes. "In other words, _never._" She huffed. "I'm telling you, Old Man, do it once, and you'll never do it any other way."

Lobsang bit down on a chuckle at the way that had come out, but Katara, from where she was perched on a chair by Korra's bed, bending broth into the girl's mouth, giggled, making his efforts pointless. "Heh…Toph…_phrasing._"

Toph laughed. "Heh…it was, wasn't it? Damn, where's Sokka when you need him? Actually," she was sitting on the bed, holding a towel that she used to wipe off any spillage that occurred from Korra's face, which was why she had to extend a leg and lean over to press a foot to the ground, "where is…well…_anybody?_"

It was Katara who answered, making Lobsang ponder, not for the first time, whether these young people actually needed him anymore. For the record, this thought didn't make him sad or angry; on the contrary, it filled the heart of the man who had always wanted children, but never had them, with an incredible sense of pride.

"The others, if I remember correctly," Katara said, tapping Toph on the knee to let her know some broth had, indeed, spilled, "are down at the Ninety-Fourth's camp. The regiment's blacksmiths made up some suits of armor for them, and the girls are trying them on."

"What," Toph asked, looking irritated, "none for you?"

Katara just rolled her eyes and went back to bending broth. "I already _have _armor, Toph, remember? I'm going to be taking it with me to the Fire Nation. I wouldn't be able to bend properly in anything they make in the Fire Nation."

Toph nodded. "Ah…makes sense…think I could score a suit?"

Katara pondered for a moment. "I don't see why not."

Lobsang, meanwhile, had taken the chance to pull out his pipe, pack it, and set to puffing. "With your increasing mastery of metalbending, you could probably make something far better yourself than anyone else could."

Toph actually looked _touched, _and Lobsang gave himself a mental pat on the back. "Aww, you really think so, Baldie?"

"If anyone can do it," Lobsang replied, "it's you, my dear."

Toph made a gagging noise. "You get any sweeter, I'm going to lose some teeth. It's bad enough when Sugar Queen and her Hubby Bunny get all sweet on each other, I don't need you showering me with compliments."

Lobsang gave a little bow. "In that case, I shall endeavor to never stop. That said…" He turned to Katara, and sighed. "So, my dear, it's official?"

Katara nodded. Her face was sad, and her eyes, though locked on Korra's face, looked very far away. Despite the pain she was obviously feeling, her broth bending did not stop, nor did it so much as falter. "I'm afraid so. Zuko and Azula need to head back to the Fire Nation, and I need to go with my husband. It's as simple as that."

Lobsang bowed his head. "I understand, my dear. You have nothing to feel sorry about."

Toph, it seemed, wasn't having any of that. "Um…while I'm on board with the Queen here not having anything to feel sorry about, because, _come on, _still…I'm totally lost. When the fuck did this happen?"

"You know," Katara replied, shooting Toph one of her patented _looks, _whose effectiveness never ceased to amaze Lobsang, "I do other things besides make out with my husband and keep you entertained. A lot's been going on, the past month-and-a-half."

Toph, as usual, seemed completely unperturbed. "Well, _naturally. _This much awesome," she motioned at herself, "needs to be parceled out. Still," she snapped her fingers, "spill. I mean, I get why Princess and Sparky have to go, but why you?"

Lobsang sighed, smiling from ear-to-ear. Ever since Sokka and Zuko's little _fight, _the girl had actually started to come out more. She still spent nine out of every ten minutes in here, but at least she was back out in the sun, earthbending, and returning to her old snippy self.

Then Lobsang looked deep into her eyes, and deep into Katara's, and wished he hadn't. _I'm getting old, I really am. I didn't used to be this sentimental._

_ I didn't used to have to bite back tears, every time I watched a young one grow old before their time._

He sighed, and puffed his pipe. _I always cried at weddings, though. Used to drive Father up a wall._

Meanwhile, Katara was answering Toph's question, using what everyone called (_behind her back, of course_) the _Katara Mom Voice. _"Well, Toph, what it basically boils down to is that the number one thing holding people in the Fire Nation back from rebelling, or at least from fighting against those who wish to rebel, will be fear of the outside world. It's been a long time since the majority of the people believed in the cause that they've been fighting for, but many are either too scared of the Fire Lords, feel too bound by tradition and respect to their ancestors who fought and died, or, and this is the biggest problem, too afraid of what the world will do, should they get the chance for vengeance. And, thing is, that's a reasonable fear, you know? Everyone's sick of the war, everyone's sick of tyranny, and you can make the case that the true way to honor one's ancestors would be to end the war they died needlessly in. Still…"

Toph picked up where Katara had begun to trail off. "With the fear of what the world will do when it's all over, you can't just _talk them around_; you have to _show them_."

"And what better way to show them the possibilities of a bright new future," Lobsang finished, pointing at Katara with the stem of his pipe, "than to let them see not just the friend, but the _wife _of one of their own princes, standing beside him, fighting beside him, risking her life on their behalf? That's a powerful image, my dear, and revolutions are fought and won with images as much as with swords."

Toph nodded, pursing her lips in thought. "Alright, I'm sold. I mean, we'll miss the shit out of you, but I'm sold. Asami going, too?"

Katara shook her head. "According to Azula, Asami's staying with you guys, so Sokka and Suki can continue her training."

Toph sighed, and Lobsang watched as her eyes flicked to Korra, then flicked away, almost too quick for him to even notice. "Yeah…but…what about…"

Once more, Lobsang was amazed at the way Katara was obviously in pain, and yet she didn't blink, didn't falter, didn't hesitate. He was amazed, and very, very sad.

He hated seeing such abilities. In his opinion, in a perfect world, no one would ever need that kind of strength, or need to find out whether or not they had it.

Katara took a deep breath before she replied; that was her only pause. "I don't like it; if anything, I like it less than you. But…we can't put it off anymore. I've done everything I can. She…she means the _world _to me, is like a daughter to me. But…" She shook her head. "If the Avatar isn't available to save the world, then the rest of us have to step up and get to it."

Toph frowned, and Lobsang watched things he had known for some time click in her head. "Wait…do you not believe she can save the world?"

Katara shook her head. "Do I believe Korra can save the world? _Of course I do. _But…do I believe that the _Avatar _can save the world? I'm not so sure, and I'm even less sure that the Avatar _should._"

Toph mulled that over for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Katara sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. What do you think, Lobsang?"

Lobsang shrugged. "As I keep telling you young ones, I just _look _like I have all the answers; I don't actually have them."

Toph crossed her arms and let out a rather theatric sigh. "Well, then the fuck good are you?"

"Teaching you a repertoire of jokes that it has taken me a lifetime of traveling to gather?"

Toph's face broke into a lopsided grin. "Damn right. Why else do I keep you around? But, back to the topic at hand," she rounded on Katara, "when do you guys leave?"

Katara didn't look at her, didn't look at Lobsang. All she did, was keep her gaze locked on Korra's face, on her chest as it slowly moved, up and down, up and down, while she bent the broth into the girl's mouth.

"Six days."

Toph nodded, slow and sure. "Right…so…" She turned back to Lobsang. "Party, right?"

Lobsang smiled. "Why else do you think I came in here?"

Katara, though, wasn't having any of it. "No, no parties. I don't need to head for the Fire Nation to start a revolution nursing a hangover."

"Or pregnant," Toph pointed out.

For the first time, Katara faltered. Lobsang watched, fascinated, as she turned white as a sheet, looking both utterly terrified and joyful beyond the capacity for words to describe. "Why, have you sensed something?" she asked, words tumbling out of her mouth like a waterfall. "Felt something? Picked up on something?"

Lobsang looked to Toph, and was amused to see the girl was completely lost. It was moments like this that Lobsang liked the best, when he was reminded that, for all of her maturity and the foulness of her language, Toph Bei Fong was still only a freshly minted eighteen-years-old. "Um," Toph said, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck, "like…uh…what? I mean, I haven't noticed anything different, but…you know…um…"

Katara's shoulders slumped, even as she looked rather relieved. "Oh, it's…um…nothing…heh…so, like I said, no party."

Toph came roaring right back from her confusion. "And the fuck makes you think you have anything to say about it?"

"Zuko will stand with me," Katara pointed out.

"In which case," Toph replied, "Princess will be so on my side, it won't even be funny, and when we add in your brother, rope Suki and Asami in…"

Katara rolled her eyes. "I'm just going to pretend I never heard any of this, and act surprised."

Toph scoffed. "Even if you knew everything, I'd still surprise you. So," she turned back to Lobsang, "we're doing this, right, Baldie?"

Lobsang bowed and smiled. "Naturally, my dear."

He sighed. _That's more like it._

* * *

For all of its faults, something the show did very well was work in little nice moments amongst the a general aangst (heh). That's something I've tried to incorporate into this little fic. I hope I've done well so far.

Why did I take the time to have Katara explain why she was doing what she's doing? *shrugs* I guess it's mostly to head off any accusations of chickifying (I think that's how one would spell it) the girl. She's not just _running off after her husband. _She's got shit to do, and a reason for doing it.

Moving on! In the next chapter, the pop in on the Fire Lord. Stay tuned!


	46. THE FIRE LORD I

THE FIRE LORD

"YOUR MAJESTY?"

Iroh didn't answer at first. The temple he was in was an old one, plain and simple; indeed, compared to the massive complexes that dotted Miyako, it paled to insignificance, almost insulting in its quaintness. Despite that, it was still a temple, and Iroh had never been one to neglect honoring his gods in the proper way. He rose from where he had been kneeling, his forehead pressed to the floor, and began chanting the prayer of departure. He went through it all, never faltering, pressing his forehead to the floor and rising, three times, before he finally said his final goodbyes and rose. He bowed one final time to the shrine, low and deep at the waist, before, at last, he turned to the door.

He took in the young soldier who had come to fetch him. The boy was young, barely eighteen-or-nineteen-years-old, his uniform somehow managing to hang from his wiry frame like a sack, his young eyes open and innocent. _How many boys like him have I sent to their deaths? How many other young boys like him did those same young boys kill before they went to join their ancestors? _Iroh shook his head.

He had never looked at casualty figures. It was simply something a general, a _king, _could never afford to do.

"What's your name, young man?"

The soldier frowned, confused. He shifted his feet, his eyes darting around, as if he was desperate to look anywhere but straight ahead, at the Fire Lord he had been sent to summon. "Um…_Your Majesty…? _I'm not sure I understand…"

Iroh sighed, allowed his face to bend into his most benevolent smile. "Your _name, _young man. I would like to know your name."

The soldier brightened, though he looked not the least bit relieved of his nerves. "Um…Tanaka, Your Grace. Corporal Tanaka Kakuei." He bowed. "Your Grace…"

Iroh nodded, rolling the name around on his tongue. "That is a good name, Corporal Tanaka. Tell me…where are you from?"

The boy's hand darted up, as if to tug at the collar of his uniform, before he realized what was happening and clapped it firmly to his side. "Well…uh…Nagano, Your Majesty. It's…um…it's a little farming village in the south, a few days' ride north of Kagoshima."

Iroh nodded, running through his mental map. _Ah, Nagano…where the soldiers who rose against my father were crushed in battle, the battle that killed the Southern Mutiny. _He frowned. _Or, at least, somewhere around there… _"What did your father do, Corporal Tanaka?"

"Um…he was a farmer, Your Majesty, as was his father before him, and his father before him." The boy choked out a nervous chuckle, turning ever deeper shades of red as the minutes rolled on. "A long line of peasants, Your Grace. That's what I come from."

Iroh nodded. Somehow, this all seemed utterly appropriate. "So do we all, Corporal, if one cares to go back far enough."

The boy frowned, utterly lost. "Um…Your Majesty…?"

Iroh dismissed the unasked question with a wave of his hand. "Nevermind; it is of no matter. I take it that you have been sent here to tell me that the ship is ready."

The boy bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty. General Ikeda and your staff await you in your study on board. The fleet merely awaits your word."

Iroh sighed, turning to cast one final look towards the shrine. "Indeed…" He shook his head, ran a hand down the front of the uniform he had not worn for a long, long time. "Well then, the word is given. Kindly inform General Ikeda that we will leave as soon as the tide allows, and to send word up and down the coast that the army is heading for Omashu with all possible speed." He paused, pondered. He should say something, something meaningful, or, at least, something that _sounded _meaningful, something that this young boy could spread through the army's rumor mill, that would grow and grow, inspiring all who heard it.

The problem was, he couldn't think of a single thing worth saying.

_Oh, well, _he mused, _my tourist-shop teacups had to fail me someday. _"We go forth to meet our destiny."

The boy's face broke into a wide smile, nervousness giving way to excitement, his body trembling with anticipation. He bowed low and said, in a breathless voice, "At once, Your Majesty," and hurried off to do his duty.

Iroh took a small amount of comfort in the fact that his words had seemed to do the trick. This was good, because they brought him nothing but doubts. All he could think, over and over again, as he stepped out of the temple and into the sunshine, striding towards the docks, his guards falling in behind him, the world dusted in a thin layer of snow that was already melting away, was one question, and one question only.

_Whose destiny do we go to? Ours?_

_ Or someone else's?_

It was, as they said in the streets, a question to try the mind of a Fire Lord.

* * *

Life is one big mash-up of stories. One of the things you have to keep in mind, is the question of whether the story is about you, or whether you're just a character in someone else's. I think that we all confront that idea from time-to-time.

For those playing the home game, there's a story about U.S. Grant, a general during the American Civil War. At the end of the three-day butchery that was the Battle of the Wilderness, an aide brought him the casualty reports. Not realizing what they were, he read them. The aide came back in to find the general with his face in his hands, sobbing. He recovered himself, and instructed the aide, who was new, to never bring him casualty reports again. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to give the orders he had to give, in order to bring the war to a close.

A lot of generals avoid casualty lists, for that very reason. It seems heartless, and in some ways it is, but...well...there's a reason I'd never want to be a general.

So, that was five, and that is all for today. You guys still enjoying the ride? My wife's on me to try and turn this into something original, so I can publish it, because she loves it so much. I'm still not entirely sure. *shrugs* Not sure why.

Moving on! In the next chapter, I give you two random LOK characters for the price of one. Stay tuned!


	47. THE TRIBESMEN I

THE TRIBESMEN

ALL THROUGHOUT THE SOUTHERN WATER TRIBES, THE LAND WAS ALIVE WITH THE PREPARATIONS FOR WAR. Every tribe, every clan, every little village and half-nomadic cluster of herders, was preparing themselves. Warriors said goodbye to the families, kissed mothers and sons and daughters and wives goodbye, and poured to the northern coast. Shamans blessed and people prayed and boys not even old enough to shave wiped their eyes, sniffed, and pretended, to themselves as much as to anybody else, that they weren't scared.

In the midst of all of that, on one of the ships that would carry the men of the Yuupik tribe north, one young warrior was on the verge of murdering another one.

They were fairly average for their people, average height, average bodies, average looks. Though the worst of the winter storms had passed, and the winter itself was on its way out, it was still cold in the South, which was why they wore heavy fur-lined clothes, and their breath hung in a thick mist about their heads. They were of fairly similar appearance, too, their hair pulled back into identical wolf-tails, their eyes the deep blue of waterbenders, their faces thin and open. This similarity made sense, because they were cousins; war, like everything else among the Southern Water Tribes, was a family affair.

The one standing and looking irritated was Nanook, and the one crouching on the deck was Hasook, and they seemed to be at an impasse.

Nanook ground his teeth, struggling to maintain his composure. He was a bundle of nerves, desperate to do everything perfectly, to make such an impression upon Chief Hakoda that the man would eagerly endorse Nanook's bid to ask the Chief's daughter for her hand. Which was why it irritated him when his idiot of cousin did things like _this._

"Look at this," Nanook said, doing his best not to shout. He picked up the ship's nets, which had been reduced to a hopelessly tangled mess, and shook them before his cousin's face. "Seriously, Hasook, _look at this._"

Hasook, as was his wont, merely shrugged. "Alright, I'm looking. What's the big deal?"

Nanook rolled his eyes to the heavens and prayed for strength. "For the love of…weren't you supposed to untangle these?"

Hasook stood, pushing his hands into the small of his back to pop it. Sighing with relief, he shrugged once more. "I did."

Nanook took a deep breath, and let it out. Holding up the nets and shaking them some more in his cousin's face, he asked, voice quiet with barely contained fury, "And weren't you _also _supposed to make sure that they were stored _properly?_"

Hasook didn't seem to be having any of his younger cousin's (by only a year, but it still mattered to Hasook) lip. "Look, I untangled them, stuffed them in the box, and went about my day. I did what I was told to do, okay? So get off my back."

Nanook growled, hurling the nets to the deck. "But…just…_look at them! _Now we're going to have to untangle them _again!_"

Hasook was unimpressed by this reasoning. "Says who? Seriously, calm down, and pull your head out of my ass. It's ridiculous."

"Look," Nanook said, stepping over the nets and pushing his nose into his cousin's face, "this campaign is very important for me."

Hasook frowned, feeling his own temper rising. "I'm pretty sure it's important to _everybody, _not just _you._"

Nanook waved the point aside. "Yeah, of _course _it is, but it's _more _important for _me. _This is my big chance! If I don't make a good impression on the Chief, there's no way he'll agree to help me get Katara to marry me."

"Right," Hasook replied, finding that his own teeth were beginning to grind, in imitation of his cousin, "because that's _totally _going to happen."

"Of course it's going to happen!" Nanook reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a bright blue ribbon from which hung a small blue stone. "I mean, I already made the necklace, and Katara _promised me _that she'd think about taking me seriously when she got back."

"Because that's pretty much an agreement to a marriage proposal right there, and not just a polite way of dumping you after previous attempts failed to get through your thick skull. I mean, come on, cousin, she's probably already shacked up with some dashing rebel or something like that. She was always going to bust out of here and never look back, first chance she got."

Nanook saw red, and before he knew it, he had dropped the necklace back into his pocket and gotten even further into his cousin's face, jamming his finger into Hasook's chest. "You don't know _anything! _You take that _back!_ Katara's not like that!"

Hasook's eyes narrowed, and he swatted his cousin's finger aside. "Kiss my ass, Nanook. Don't get pissy with me because you can't handle the truth."

"What, like the truth that you can't even manage to stow some fucking _nets _properly?!"

"Why, you little-"

"Ahem."

The cousins sprang apart, to find themselves confronted by another young man, whose appearance seemed utterly at odds with everyone else's. He was tall and thin, all knees and elbows, with a long, sharp face and a strange pencil-thin little mustache beneath his nose.

"Now," the newcomer said, in Inuktitut, his voice bizarrely urbane, "I may not be able to understand your clan's little _dialect,_ but I know enough to know that it has something to do with _that._" He pointed a long, spindly finger at the pile of tangled nets at the cousins' feet.

In the nations of Earth and Fire, and even in the North, the cousins would have turned beet red in embarrassment, bowed and mumbled many apologies, before getting right to work. This, however, was the land of the Southern Water Tribes, which was why Hasook crossed his arms and asked, in the Inuktitut he didn't speak all that well, "Just who the hell are you?"

The newcomer coughed delicately into his fist and patted his immaculate wolf-tail before answering. "Well, if you must know, my name is Iknik, son of Chief Ikuma, of the Aleut Tribe. _Surely _you've heard of me."

The cousins shook their heads, momentarily united against a common foe. "Can't say that we have," Hasook snapped back. "The hell do you want?"

The man called Iknik rolled his eyes quite dramatically. "I'm here to speak to your Chief. Do you know where I may find him?"

Nanook hooked a thumb towards the ship berthed next to theirs. "He should be over there, or somewhere around here. We're leaving day after tomorrow, so, you know, he's pretty busy."

Iknik shrugged. "No doubt, but I still need to speak to him. In the meantime, I would encourage you two to untangle those nets."

"Kiss my ass," Hasook snarled, "we're Yuupik, not Aleut; you can't tell us what to do."

Iknik sighed. "Whatever. Good day, gentlemen." And then he strolled off, leaving the cousins to their bickering.

Three weeks later, the warriors of the Southern Water Tribes began to land along the southeastern coast of what was once the Earth Kingdom. Half the warriors disembarked and began to gather into an army, while the other half stayed on their ships, and began to raid Fire Nation shipping and, along with those elements of the Southern Fleet that had mutinied, attempt to intercept the rumored fleet of the Fire Lord.

They narrowly missed it.

* * *

Because Hasook, no matter what universe he's in, will always be doing the least amount possible to get away with, and will always be getting annoyed that people are irritated by this. Also, in case you missed it, "Iknik" is the first name of someone we all know better as "Varrick," who, no matter what realm he appears in, will always be a bit of a stuck-up ass.

In short, they are both types of people who are unavoidable in one's life. Same with Nanook, Katara's old boyfriend, who was better described as, _That guy my Mom made me date once, and I did, because, at the time...eh, I didn't have anything better to do. _I think we're all been there in some form or fashion. Poor guy, though. He never had a chance, did he?

And now, ladies and gentlemen, the plot is truly rolling. Also, good morning! Did everyone enjoy their weekends? I had a pretty fabulous one. The wife and I spent Saturday lounging in our pjs, doing our best to do absolutely nothing, outside of a quick run up the road for her to get a haircut, which went quite well, and then yesterday, we cooked dinner. I did steaks, which turned out amazing, and she did her special oven-roasted potatoes, which are _to die for. _

Moving on! In the next chapter, I remind you of the existence of someone you'd rather forget. Stay tuned!


	48. THE PEASANT

THE PEASANT

CHUNYU DAO STORMED TOWARDS THE VILLAGE BARN, FURIOUS. In tow were two of his sons, Liu and Gen, equally angry. It was the middle of the night, it was cold, and they were all tired from a long day spent preparing the fields for the spring sowing, work made all the harder because half the village's young men, including Dao's own oldest son, Enlai, had run off to join the growing revolution. No one begrudged the young men this act, not even Dao; when he was a young man, he had done the same thing, serving in the Imperial Army, and were he just a bit younger, he would've gone off with his son.

What they _did _begrudge, though, was whoever was making the animals in the barn raise such an awful racket.

Dao stopped at the doors, glaring at the broken lock that lay in the grass. Growling deep in the back of his throat, he turned to Liu, the bigger of the two boys. "Liu," he barked in thick peasant's Putonghua, "go around the back, make sure they don't get away."

"At once, Papa," the boy said, hefting his club onto his shoulder and racing off into the night.

Dao turned to the other boy. "Gen, you stay with me. Be prepared for anything, but don't start something unless I tell you to. Understand?"

The boy nodded, nervously clutching the hoe in his hands. "Of course, Papa."

Dao nodded. "Good." He took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the knife in one hand, the kind made for clearing away thick scrub, and with the other, leaned towards the gap between the doors. "Alright," he bellowed, "whoever the fuck you are, you're caught! My wife's already run off to raise the village, so just come out, nice and easy, and we'll just give you a good thrashing and send you on your way. Don't make us come in and get you!"

There was no response, other than the nervous rumbling of the animals and the sounds of someone saddling an ostrich-horse.

Dao cursed under his breath. "Last chance! Don't be stupid!"

Again, there was no response. Whoever was in there, obviously thought he could get away with stealing from Dao's village.

Dao was not happy about that.

He turned to his son. "Alright, nice and easy. Probably just some ash-maker deserter, too stupid to understand a proper language. Come on, stay behind me."

They didn't get very far. Communicating with his son in nods and hand movements, Dao swung the doors wide, stepping into the gap and looking up in shock. Before him, perched imperiously upon one of the village's two ostrich-horses, was a man dressed in a ragged and tattered Fire Nation uniform, a sword dangling from his waist, golden eyes sparkling with what Dao couldn't help but suspect was madness.

The man smiled, and Dao's blood ran cold. Dao didn't like that smile.

_Not one bit._

"I don't have time for this," the man said in the polished Putonghua of nobility. The mere _sound _of the voice made Dao take a step back, his free hand balling into the sign to ward off evil. "Get out of my way, _peasants, _or die where you stand."

"Papa," Gen said, jumping from one foot to the other in his excitement, "come on, we can take him. The rest of the village will get here soon, he won't get far."

For all that he had once been a proud subject of the Emperor, and hoped to be one again, and for all that he hated the gods-forsaken ash-makers with every fiber of his being, Chunyu Dao had not survived his time at war by being an idiot. He took one look at the man on the ostrich-horse, saw a monster, and decided that an ostrich-horse simply wasn't worth his life, or that of his son. He grabbed Gen by the arm and stepped out of the way, pulling his son with him. "Please," he said, sounding as apologetic as possible, "please, don't hurt anyone. We won't stand in your way."

The man, no, the _monster, _maybe even a _demon, _Dao was convinced of that now, snorted in derision. "Oh, don't worry, Matsuura Jiro will be back. _Remember that._" Then he kicked his heels into his mount and disappeared into the night, plowing right through the villagers who were beginning to tumble out of their homes.

No one tried to stop him.

It wasn't much of an ostrich-horse anyways.

* * *

Yeah, that asshole is still alive. Sorry for anyone who harbored hopes otherwise.

Not much to say here, so, moving on! In the next chapter, Toshiro has a conversation with his father. Stay tuned!


	49. TOSHIRO II

TOSHIRO

HE SAT IN HIS FATHER'S STUDY, STARED AT HIS FATHER'S BACK, AND DRANK HIS FATHER'S WINE. It was almost as if, he thought, the past five years had never happened. He felt like a boy again, sitting in this very chair, drinking wine perhaps from this very glass, fresh from the Academy, knowing that the draft notice was on its way. He had never fought and slogged through three years of blood and mud, never watched as the Rough Rhinos descended on a nameless little village, never closed his eyes and decided that he had had enough. He had never barreled into the battle, never run his _katana _through the stomach of one of those monsters, never pulled a young girl, tears running down her face, away from the fires.

_No, _he thought, as he sipped his wine and listened to the house settle around him, _it's like I never did any of that._

_ But I did. Just as I once sat in this very study, and told my father about a prince who didn't act like any prince I had ever heard of._

It was odd, when he thought about it, this strained silence. The day had, after all, gone amazingly well. With the money King Bumi had given them, he had taken Song shopping, and decked her out in the finest dress and accessories that he could find. He had been a bundle of nerves, all the way out to his family's estate, so nervous that Song had had to swat his hands away from the sleeves of his formal robes, least he pull them apart, thread-by-thread.

Despite his fears, the evening had gone even better than the day. His mother, as he had known she would, had thrown out all the stops to welcome her son home. His sisters had gushed over Song, admiring her outfit and her looks, and though his mother had paused and blinked maybe a few more times than was strictly necessary, Song had soon won her over with her grace, her poise, and her manners.

His father had said hardly ten words, but then again, Toshiro had expected that.

_And now we're here…_

They were alone in the study, not even a servant present. Somewhere in the house, he knew that his sisters were playing what amounted to _dress-up _with Song, probably having his wife try on every single dress they owned. He didn't know if his mother was taking part, but, somehow, he didn't doubt it. In fact-

"Why did you come here, Toshiro?"

He blinked, looked up from his glass, to his father. His father was still standing before the fire, back to him, one hand behind his back, toying with his pipe, while the other clasped a glass of wine, pressed to his stomach. Toshiro sighed. _There he is, the great Lord Mifune Nobusuke. One of the richest and most powerful nobles in the land, rivaling even the vaunted Arinori clan. Politician. Administrator. Statesman. War hero._

_ My father._

"Isn't it obvious, Father?"

His father took a sip of his wine, but did not turn around. "You tell me, my son."

Toshiro sighed. _So, we're playing __**that **__game, are we? _"Well…two reasons. The first was to reunite with my family after far too long, and introduce them to my wife."

His father nodded. "I'm glad you did. She is…I know you're not expecting me to say this, but she is a lovely girl. Her…_background_…may not be what I would have wanted in the wife of my son, but I cannot fault your choice on those grounds alone." The hand behind his back moved, bringing the pipe to his lips. His father took two long, deep puffs, then put the pipe back where it had started.

Toshiro's fingers tingled from the need for a cigarette, but he held back. Why, he wasn't really sure. "That makes me…I'm very happy to hear you say that, Father. Song will be over the moon."

His father sighed. "Good. And before you ask, no, I will not have to break any marriage contracts. I was waiting for you to return from overseas before I agreed to anything."

Toshiro bit down on a scoff. _Right, because of __**course **__I would worry about __**that. **_It was an unkind thought, unfair, even, but he was only human. "I'm happy, for your sake, at least, Father."

"Mm. And the other reason?"

_No time like the present. What was it Master Piandao used to say? __**Either do it, or don't, don't waste time equivocating about it. **__Right. _"I came to foment revolution, Father. The military is either on the verge of mutiny or in it, the Southern Water Tribes and the Air Nomads – from what I hear – are going to war, and the North isn't far behind, nevermind that the entire Earth Kingdom is rising up. It's time to bring an end to this wretched war, return the world to sanity, and send the Fire Lords toppling from their throne."

His father didn't say anything at first, nor even at second. He stood there, staring into the fire, sipping his wine, puffing his pipe, for what felt like a long time. A lot of scenarios played through Toshiro's mind as he waited, swirling the wine around in his glass. He saw his father denounce him for a traitor and call for the _metsuke. _He saw his father embrace him and burst into tears. He saw his father walk out the door, come back, and pretend Toshiro had never spoken. He saw-

"Is Prince Zuko still alive?"

Toshiro frowned. "Father?"

"You heard me. The government denies it, but no one really believes them. Is he still alive?"

Toshiro was confused, but decided to follow the road wherever it cared to lead him. "Yes, Father, he's still alive. I know, because I've seen him, talked with him, watched him propose to a girl, even."

"Mm. Fire Nation? Earth Kingdom?"

"Water Tribe, from the South. A chief's daughter."

"Mm…that's actually a fairly good match, all things considered. Would she make a good Fire Lady, do you think?"

Toshiro did his best to imagine Katara as the Fire Lady, and found that it wasn't as hard as he would have initially thought. _Huh… _"Actually…you know, Song could tell you more, really, but, from what I've seen…yeah, probably. Why?"

His father was silent for a few moments, and then he turned. He strode over to the chair next to Toshiro's, settled into it. He set his wine glass upon the small table between them, and pulled from a drawer in the table a small box. From the box he pulled a cigarette, and offered it to his son. Confused, but intrigued, Toshiro took the cigarette, lit it, and puffed as his father took up his own pipe.

"Because," his father said, tapping the stem of his pipe on his bottom teeth, "I agree with you, _to a point. _This war…it needs to end, one way or the other, and the only way I can see it ending is if we admit defeat. It's as simple as that. But…" He sighed, and shook his head. "I cannot abide revolution. You young people may have your hope and your faith, but for many, we _must _have a Fire Lord, or at least the promise of one. That is why I ask you about Prince Zuko, that is why I ask you about his wife." His father took a deep breath, let it out, finally turned to face Toshiro. "Do you understand what I am saying, my son?"

Toshiro nodded. _I understand. You are saying that the Fire Nation is far closer to rebellion than anyone could have possibly imagined. You are saying that the last great hurdle would be to not stand in the way of people believing that Zuko will take the throne. You are saying that you have not forgotten that you were born the third son, that your oldest brother died in battle, that your second brother took his own life when he came home emotionally and mentally shattered._

Toshiro took a long drag from his cigarette, sipped his wine. "And if I told that I have it, on fairly good authority, that Zuko, his wife, and the Princess Azula should be arriving in the Fire Nation sometime in the next few months…"

His father nodded, slow and sure. "Then I would ask you to tell them, somehow, someway, to come here, first, and not stop anyone from treating him as a claimant to the throne."

Toshiro sighed. "That is…a lot to ask of Zuko, and Azula, too."

"It is," his father admitted. "They have no love for royalty, and could not be expected to. That said…if I tell you what His Majesty has done, and who is currently in charge, or, at least, nominally so, in Miyako, you will see that, by following my advice, your revolution is as good as won." His father suddenly looked pained, and gazed down into the bowl of his pipe. "And when I tell you about the Lady Ursa…"

Toshiro's heart sank into his stomach. "The Lady Ursa…? What happened?"

His father told him.

Toshiro decided to leave it out of his letters for now.

* * *

I think I said this before, but it bears repeating: This story doesn't take place in strict chronological order, but, rather, more of a narrative order. Thus, things tend to follow each other thematically as much as chronologically. For example, this chapter in my mind, this chapter actually takes place not that long after the Battle of the Northern Air Temple, maybe only a week or three. Maybe, maybe not. I haven't put too much thought into _when _so much as _what makes the story flow better. _

Basically, what I'm saying is don't bend your mind into too many knots, trying to piece together exactly when shit happens in relation to other shit. And, besides, sometimes the plot moves with the characters, sometimes the characters move with the plot; it's the eternal conundrum of story-telling. From time-to-time, your characters have to move at the speed of plot, and one's readers have to kind of roll with it.

Man, that was a really like, probably entirely unnecessary apology, making for a long AN on a chapter that explains itself quite well. *shrugs*

Moving on! In the next chapter, Katara says goodbye. Stay tuned!


	50. KATARA IV

KATARA

SHE SAT IN A DEEP DARKNESS OF THE SOUL, AND DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY.

She was in her chair, her eternal chair, the chair from which she cared for Korra, fed Korra, helped Toph brush Korra's hair. She couldn't have been sitting there for very long, maybe thirty minutes, maybe more, maybe less, but it felt like it had been an eternity. The others were outside, making their goodbyes, the temple bustling with activity. Out beyond the causeway, she knew that the Ninety-Fourth was formed up, ready to leave, having just been relieved by a unit of uniformed Earth Kingdom rebels that had marched out of the northeast. Even she was ready. Her bags were packed, and she wore her traveling clothes.

Everyone was waiting on her, because Zuko and Azula wouldn't leave without her, and the Ninety-Fourth wouldn't leave without them. Even she was waiting on her, but…

_But…_

_ I just don't know what to say…_

She frowned, snatched her hand away from where it had been compulsively tugging at the purple stone that rested in the hollow of her throat. It annoyed her, this nervous tic. It had taken _months _to break herself of that old habit, months to stop reaching for the for the necklace she had passed on to Korra, and yet, within a week of Zuko giving her one of their own, she was back at.

_Now worse than ever…_

She sighed.

_Which is entirely beside the point…_

She shook her head, running her hands through her hair. _If only I could think of something to __**say. **_But, at the end of the day, what _could _she say? Even more than that, what _should _she say? She refused to believe that Korra couldn't hear her, pushed away the thought that Korra wasn't somewhere in there, that the daughter of her spirit would not return. And all the things Katara wanted to say, in some ways _needed to say…_well…

_What can I say? That I don't believe in the Avatar anymore? That not only can we __**not **__wait, but that we __**shouldn't? **__That we can't sit around, praying for the Avatar to save us? That we've done that long enough already, and that the world is out there, and it needs us, and all of us, __**every single one of us, **__needs to join together…_

_ Join together…_

She closed her eyes, and fought against the tears that burned behind them.

_It's time for the world to save itself._

_ It should've done that long ago…_

But she couldn't say that, could she? Because it wasn't the Avatar who was lying there in that bed, lost in a world that Katara couldn't even _begin _to understand.

_No, it's Korra. Her name is __**Korra.**_

_And I might be saying goodbye for good._

Katara was too old, knew too much, to ignore that.

That's when she knew what to say.

She stood, wiping her eyes, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Korra's forehead. She ran her palm over Korra's face, trailed her fingers through Korra's hair, softly, gently. She smiled her bravest smile, banished any trace of doubt or fear from her eyes, from her voice. She smiled, and kissed Korra's forehead once more.

"I love you, Korra. Don't ever forget that. No matter what happens, I will see you again, in this life or the next. But…I'd prefer it if it was in _this _life, so…

"Come back to us, Korra.

"Come back to me."

Another kiss, another touch, and then she stood and wiped her eyes.

"I love you, girl, love you to pieces. See you soon."

Then she turned and left. She didn't look back.

If she had, she never would've made it out the door.

* * *

It seems like, no matter what, Katara always has to leave the Avatar at some point. It seems to be a bit of a trope in fanfiction.

_And we won't get into how that was an important thematic point in the original series and said a lot about all kinds of things and-_

*deep breath* Okay, I'm good. I swear. Moving on!

In the next chapter, we come to a parting of the ways. Stay tuned!


	51. PARTING OF THE WAYS

PARTING OF THE WAYS

THE GOODBYES TOOK PLACE IN THE MAIN SQUARE, AND EVERYONE AGREED THAT, AS FAREWELLS WENT, IT WAS QUITE SPLENDID. Everyone was dressed in their absolute best, and it all had a strange, festival-like atmosphere, no less so for being bittersweet.

They said goodbye in their own ways. For Toph, this meant bone-crushing hugs for the three who were making their departure, accompanied by constant complaints about _shit in my eye, seriously, did someone bend sand through here or something? Fuck. _For Suki, this meant a strong hug for Katara, and proper bows and warm words exchanged with the once royal siblings. Asami contented herself with bows. She didn't feel like she knew Katara or Zuko well enough for more, and, for all that her and Azula had grown close in their time at the temple, they were both still products of their people, and bowing was where they left it.

Asami did end up crying, though. She had promised herself she wouldn't, but she ended up not being able to help it. She blamed Azula, who had smiled at her, and said, _Hey, listen, I…I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have acted that way when you came, and not Mai. I've done my best to make it up to you, and I'll always work at that, but…I haven't said that I was sorry. So…heh…_

Asami had smiled, and rolled her eyes. _Do they teach royalty how to apologize? Because, seriously, you guys fucking __**blow **__at it._

Azula had laughed, light and free. _Yeah…we're actually told __**not **__to apologize, like, __**ever, **__but, you know…I'm always trying to push the boundaries, you know? Still…I'm glad you're here, and I'm glad you made it. Watch over Korra for me._

Asami had bowed, one final time. _I will. Always. Be careful._

Azula had returned the bow. _You, too._

The tears were rolling down Asami's face by the time Azula had turned away. As annoyed as she was, she did nothing to stop them.

Everyone's favorite goodbyes were made by Lobsang, who cried without shame, like a little kid, really, the tears flowing freely as he did his best to out-do Toph in the bone-crushing quality of his hugs. He cried and hugged, even as he laughed and gave some last pieces of tongue-in-cheek advice and promised that he would never let them down, even though no one had even thought to _imagine _such a possibility. By the end of it, he had everyone laughing through their tears.

The most dramatic farewells, though, were made by Sokka. He clasped hands with Zuko, praised the former prince's grip and technique, before pulling him into what Sokka called _a manly hug, _full of backslaps strong enough to rattle ribs and leave Zuko looking winded. Sokka made Zuko promise to look out for Katara, and then made Zuko promise never to tell Katara that Sokka had asked that. _And if you do, _Sokka said, wagging a finger, _I'll revoke your Man Card, because you will have violated the Bro Code._

Zuko had laughed. _Is that even a thing?_

Sokka had rolled his eyes. _Gods, man, don't they teach you princes __**anything?**_

Zuko had shaken his head. _Nothing useful, that's for sure._

Then it was on to Katara. The siblings had hugged for all they were worth, and Sokka had taken the time to give his sister a pep talk. _Don't you let those fire-breathers push you around, and don't let them look down on you. You're pretty much our version of a princess, nevermind that you're married to a __**prince, **__so that makes you a __**real **__princess, and they can go shove it if they have a problem. And don't worry about Dad, because Mom will love Zuko, and I love the guy, so he'll get over it. And you know what-_

Katara had stopped him there. _Hush, _she had said, _because I have some stuff to say to you. _At which point, she had launched into a long diatribe, ranting as only Katara could rant, sounding every bit the mother everyone knew she had always been, and would one day be. In an out of character moment, Sokka had bowed his head, and offered not one bit of argument, which ended up reducing his sister to tears and led to another round of hugs.

Then came the farewell to Azula. This one ended up being fairly simple. The two stared at each other for what felt like a long time, until everyone was feeling as awkward as they looked, and then Azula said, _You know what? Fuck it, _grabbed Sokka by the collar, and pulled him down into a kiss that involved, from Zuko's standpoint, a nauseating amount of tongue.

Watching this, Toph, who stood between Asami and Suki, nudged them both and said, _Snoozles and Princess are totally making out, aren't they?_

_ They are, _Suki admitted, and was surprised that she felt not the least bit of jealousy. Indeed, it was all she could do not to clap.

Toph had scoffed, as only she could. _Figures. Hey, either of you want to make out? Since that seems to be going around._

_ Don't you and Korra have a thing? _Asami had pointed out.

_Hey, _Toph had replied, _I didn't say anything about __**me **__being involved. Come on, you two, don't knock it until you've tried it._

Asami and Suki had bitten down on their laughter and rolled their eyes over Toph's head. Toph, for her part, just sighed, shaking her head. _You two don't know what you're missing…_

When Azula finally let Sokka break the kiss, she discovered, to her surprise, that he wasn't done. So, it went on for a bit more, until they finally had to come up for air.

_Hey, _he said, _I really like you. Let's do something about that, when this is all over._

Azula had smiled, in a way she didn't know she could. _You know what? I agree. I like you, too. Let's do that. So…you know…do me a favor, stop being an idiot, and don't die._

He had given her his signature grin. _Well, I can promise to not die…_

She had rolled her eyes and shoved him away. _Oh, get out of here, before this takes any longer._

The four who were left, Lobsang, Toph, Suki, and Asami, gathered atop the temple gate, and watched their friends ride away, everyone waving to each other the whole way. They stayed there, long after the Ninety-Fourth had saluted their friends, long after the long scarlet-and-black column had disappeared into the distance, gone like they had never been there in the first place.

Then, everyone retired to Korra's room, told her all about it, then settled down on the floor to play cards, which Toph won, of course, though no one could explain how.

They cried a lot, too. There didn't seem to be any stopping it.

* * *

I don't know why, but in every fic that I write, I end up working in the title to the infamous _Doctor Who _episode, _Parting of the Ways. _I guess I'm just that much of a fan. Also, how about that Peter Capaldi? I'm enjoying the shit out of the guy.

Which also reminds me of _Super-Who-Lock. _Anyone know what that is? Because my wife's ridiculously into it, and she's infected me. Also, anyone ever watch _Star Wars: The Clone Wars? _You know, the CGI animated series? It's actually...really good. Like, _really good. _It comes very close to redeeming the prequels.

Oh! Also! Anyone watch the new _Star Wars _trailer? Or the new _Batman vs. Superman _trailer? Because _holy shit you guys. _Between those two and the second _Avengers _movie, it's nice for DC, Marvel, and J.J. Abrams to map out my next year-and-a-half for me.

Heh...that was a strange AN. Next thing you know, I'm going to be rambling over how my wife and I totally ship Black Widow and Captain America. Or, at least, I do, and the wife indulges me. Moving on!

In the next chapter, which you shall, of course, get tomorrow, Arnook makes his call. Stay tuned!


	52. THE WATER MASTER II

THE WATER MASTER

HE BLAMED KANNA'S GRANDDAUGHTER FOR WHAT WAS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW. He had never had much patience for children, or for beginner students. He had the birth, the connections, and the skill to make sure he only ever taught older, advanced students, and he had felt no qualms about exerting himself for that goal. But then, Katara, that _girl, _had looked him dead in the eye and said, _But, Master Pakku…don't you think that it is the youngest and least skilled who most need the benefit of your talents and your experience? Or, perhaps, those least able to afford it?_

And, in a moment that showed just how much the girl was like her grandmother, he had found himself unable to argue with her. Which was why he was standing there, hands on his hips, staring down at a little boy, barely ten, knees pressed together, madly waving his hand about.

Pakku sighed, and shook his head. _This is __**your **__fault, young lady. Yours, and the fact that you have your grandmother's heart, her heart, her determination, her fire…_

_ Her eyes…_

He cast his eyes about the class. _Which is why I have girls in this class, too. Though only well-born girls._

_ I have my limits._

"Yes, Inuk?"

The boy dropped his hand, grasping at his crotch. "I…um…I _really _have to go to the bathroom…"

Pakku had to struggle not to roll his eyes. _Damn you, Katara… _"Very well, make it fast."

The boy shot off, but then several other hands were going up. Pakku rolled his eyes this time. "Who else has to go to the bathroom?"

He groaned, quite audibly, as every single hand went up.

"Fine, fine, off with you. Ten minute break. Make it snappy."

Which was why he was standing before an empty training field, sipping some hot tea brought to him by an assistant, grumbling under his breath, when his king stopped before him.

He rounded on Arnook, eyes wide. He dipped his head, both surprised and annoyed. For weeks now, the deliberations had gone on. For the most part, people were ready for war, but the opponents – _like that Tahno bastard, _he thought – were very vocal, and very good at playing on the High King's regrets. Pakku had finally stopped going to the meetings; he had had enough. Even anxious children were better than that. _And more mature, too._

"Your Majesty," he said, rising.

Arnook nodded, dipped his own head in return. "Master Pakku. I thought you might like to know that I've made a few decisions."

Pakku felt his throat go dry, and his heart began to race in his chest. Conflicting emotions crashed together, tearing at his soul. He wanted with all of his heart to go south, to end the madness that had gripped the world by its throat. But…

_But then I look at my king, and his sad eyes, and part of me wants to stay out of it…_

_ For his sake…_

He swallowed hard, though it didn't do him any good. Not even bothering to keep the nervous tremor from his voice, he asked, "And those are, Your Majesty…?"

Arnook reached down into the pocket of his coat, pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. He handed it over. "Read this."

Pakku did. Three times. It didn't make any more sense the third time than it had the first. "I…Your Majesty, I don't…"

Arnook chuckled, turning towards the horizon, looking up at the sun, the sun that grew stronger and warmer every day. "That is a draft of a succession decree I will be giving tomorrow morning to the Privy Council. As you are aware, one of the primary objections to war, it seems, is that there is no one to succeed me, or, at least, no one obvious, not without reaching out through royal cousins and such."

Pakku frowned. "I was not aware of that…"

Arnook shrugged. "It's been largely unsaid, but it's been there. Thus, in recognition of his valiant service, and of the fact that, through his grandmother, noble Northern blood runs in his veins, I am hereby naming Sokka, son of Hakoda, of the Yuupik Clan of the Southern Water Tribes, my heir and successor." He sighed, his gaze falling until it met the ground.

"You know," he said, not waiting for Pakku to respond, "I was thinking about doing that anyways. I saw the way my daughter looked at him, the way he looked at her. He was, in many ways, everything I could want in a successor. A bit rough around the edges, as is to be expected, but still…" Arnook sighed, and his face was very sad, very far away. "After I saw Hahn, for all that he is a tolerable sort, and brave, in his own way, fail so miserably at the battle, I had decided, when it was all settled, to adopt Sokka into the tribe, ennoble him, and allow him to marry my daughter. So, in many ways, this has been a long time coming." He looked up to Pakku. "What do you think?"

Pakku had to give himself a shake before he could reply. "I…I think it's an excellent choice, Your Majesty, a wise choice. Still…what about…about…"

"The war?"

Pakku nodded. "Yes, if you don't mind my asking, Your Majesty…"

Arnook smiled, and looked to the sun. "Well, the future High King of the Northern Water Tribe is out there, fighting the good fight. Do you really expect the people of the North to do any less?"

Pakku felt his hands begin to shake; it was with great effort that he stopped them. "So…it's war…"

Arnook nodded, and closed his eyes.

"It's war, and may the gods have mercy on our souls."

Pakku bowed his head. "Indeed, Your Majesty, indeed…"

He didn't know what else to say. He hadn't had much faith in the gods, since the day he'd seen one tear an army of terrified boys to pieces.

* * *

This chapter is basically a result of me wracking my brain, trying to figure out why, after everything that had happened, the NWT would ever want to go to war, or, at least, why Arnook would want to. Once I hit upon this, well, it was pretty obvious. Sadly, Arnook's thought process isn't an original idea of mine. Equally sadly, I cannot, for the life of me, remember where I first read it. It was a drabble, I know that much. It's really annoying me.

Also, can Arnook do this? Actually, there's a lot of precedent in royal families for solutions such as this one, especially in East Asian dynasties, and also in the Western world, with the Roman Empire. Oddly enough, the Roman Empire didn't start having real problems until they stopped adopting heirs and tried to make it more dynastic.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Kiyoshiro is feeling a bit frustrated. Stay tuned!


	53. THE CONFIDANTE II

THE CONFIDANTE

"MY LORD, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? Have you been listening at all?"

Kiyoshiro had no need to ask the question, but he felt compelled to do so. Life, he reflected, was nothing but a serious of patterns, endlessly repeating each other, trapping humanity into an infinite loop that ground on and on and on. _We ask questions that we already know the answers to, because it is expected of us._

_ We press on, even when we are no longer sure if there is any point._

He took a deep breath, let it out. His temples throbbed, and he felt every single one of his many years. It was odd, he couldn't help but think. He had never really felt old before, no matter what happened.

He felt old now, though. Older than he could possibly believe.

"My lord…?"

They were in the study, in the suite of rooms in the Palace traditionally occupied by the Crown Prince. It was technically Yoshihito's study, just as the adjoining bedroom was technically Yoshihito's bedroom. _Not that he uses any of it, _Kiyoshiro reflected. _All he does is sit in this room, in that chair, staring out the windows that he never closes. No matter the weather, the windows are open, and no matter what, he is in this chair, unless I drag him out of it. He sits, and he stares, and he drinks, endless bottles of fire whiskey, one after the other._

Yoshihito didn't look drunk, though. Kiyoshiro wondered at that. He drank more than any human should, by any definition, and yet…

_He never seemed drunk…_

It had been like this, ever since Kiyoshiro had fetched the so-called _prince _out of his cell. Time and proper care had not improved his state, not one bit. He was still bone thin, even more so, if anything else. Put food in front of him, and he would push the bits and pieces around, nibbling at this, frowning at that. He never went outside, except when Kiyoshiro told him he must. He went everywhere Kiyoshiro took him, following like a dog that had been beaten one too many times. His eyes never left the floor, and when he was left alone, all he would do was drink.

And Kiyoshiro had tried _everything. _In desperation, he had even put a pipe full of opium in front of the man. Yoshihito had stared at the pipe, like it was some strange, unnatural _thing, _blinked, shrugged, and looked away. Even the girls Kiyoshiro had tried to send him had come back, hours later, confused, bewildered, and untouched.

It was like the man was already dead; he was just waiting for the _shinagami _to get around to writing his name down, the sooner the better.

But Kiyoshiro didn't need a half-dead former prince, on the verge of a life to be spent in exile. Once this was all over, once the Fire Lord returned in triumph, if Yoshihito wanted to grind out the clock staring out of a window, drinking bottle after bottle of fire whiskey, well, _fine. _Kiyoshiro would deliver the crates of alcohol personally, and open them up for him.

But that's not what he needed right _now. _

"Seriously, Yoshihito," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, wincing at the way pain lanced into his brain, "I need you to at least _look _at me, show me that you're even _there. _Can you do that at least?"

Yoshihito stirred. Kiyoshiro felt his heart leap into his chest, excitement jolting through his nerves. He knew it was stupid, but he had been banging his head against the brick wall of the former prince's indifference for what felt like _eons _now, and he was willing to grasp onto even the flimsiest thread.

But that was all Yoshihito did. He just…_stirred. _He frowned, nodded, emptied his glass, refilled it, and resumed his staring. Kiyoshiro's heart sank, and he began to gather together the papers that he had spread, so painstakingly, so carefully, on the table between them, not an hour before.

Then, to his eternal surprise, Yoshihito spoke.

"What do you want from me, Imawano-san?"

Kiyoshiro uttered a silent plea to the gods. It wasn't much, but it was _something. _He honestly couldn't remember the last time Yoshihito had actually spoken something that could reasonably be called a simple _sentence. _"What I want, my lord, is for you to do what your father had me dig you out of your cell for."

The only movement from Yoshihito was to sip his glass. "Uh huh. Am I not doing that?"

Kiyoshiro shook his head. It was a lot like talking to a particularly dim child. "No, my lord, _you're not. _You are supposed to be the figurehead of this government, projecting an image of calm and competence to the nation. A reassuring figure, if you will, in this time of crisis. The people are concerned, gods, many of them are on the verge of _treason, _simply because they have lost faith in your father and, by extension, in everything your dynasty represents."

Another sip. Another sigh. "I do what you tell me to do. I say what you tell me to say. I never argue, never make a fuss, never cause a scandal. What more do you want?"

Anger bubbled and burned in the back of Kiyoshiro's throat, but he swallowed it, pushed it down until it was one with the burning pain in the pit of his stomach. "But, my lord, it's _how _you do it. Think back to today's meeting of the Privy Council."

Another sip. Another sigh. "That was…I think that was the worst one yet."

Kiyoshiro had to nod, because it was true. Once, the hardliners and the zealots had been united in the pursuit of their goal of forcing Ozai, their puppet, onto the throne. Now, their unity was shattered, and they were at each other's throats as they struggled for dominance. Meanwhile, those who had been united in opposition to them were equally divided, torn between loyalty to the Fire Lord and, Kiyoshiro couldn't help but suspect, sympathy for the growing rebellion.

_And then there were those who just sat, dumbfounded, eyes shifting back-and-forth between one side and the other, wondering when someone would tell them to shut up._

"Yes," Kiyoshiro admitted, "it probably was. And you did nothing."

"I made the speech you passed to me. I said what you wanted me to say."

_Yes, you did, in a quiet voice, without even getting up. I don't think anyone even heard you. I had to call out the guards to calm them down, and even then, we got nothing done._

_**Nothing…**_

"But…" Kiyoshiro steeled his nerves, and tried again. He had to press home his point, had to make an impact. This was the most he had gotten out of Yoshihito since he pulled the man-child from his hole; it had to mean _something._

_ Right…?_

"That's just the thing, my lord. You are supposed to be standing in for your father. Stand up, be heard, do what I tell you to do, but _forcefully. _They don't _have _to listen to me; they _have _to listen to you, whether they want to or not. Don't you see?"

And then, to his shock and awe, Yoshihito began to laugh. As in, _really laugh. _Hard, almost uncontrollably, practically doubling over in his chair. Frowning, deeply confused, Kiyoshiro asked, "My lord…? May I ask what's so funny…?"

Yoshihito wiped his eyes, struggling for breath. "Oh, it's not actually that funny…it's just…heh…it's like I've come full circle, you know? That's what he asked me. _You don't have to do anything, just be there, look imperious, pretend to be interested, clap and say something about how I've made an excellent point, an excellent presentation. _And, like I said, it's not funny at _all, _I see that now. I couldn't before, because I was a prince, but now that I'm not…it's just…so much makes _sense _now…" Yoshihito calmed himself, resumed his position, looked out the window, went back to sipping and staring. "I'm not making any sense…"

Kiyoshiro shook his head. "No, you're not…just…look…just, take this." He passed him the text of a carefully prepared speech. "We're announcing a bonus next month, for all the soldiers currently in arms and loyal to His Majesty your father. We _need _this to sound like a special gift, a reward for loyalty, a celebration of the founding of the dynasty, which is also next month. If you don't give the speech correctly, it'll come off as a move of desperation, make us look weak."

Yoshihito frowned into his glass. "But it _is _a move of desperation, because we _are _weak."

Kiyoshiro nodded. "That's true, but we can't let the people, and especially the military, _see that. _So, please, read the speech, and try to project your voice this time, okay? We're going to try to induct the next draft class early again next month, and we need this announcement to drown out that one, or else we'll be in for another round of draft riots."

"Surely," Yoshihito observed, "the army can put these ones down, too."

Kiyoshiro sighed, slumping back in his chair. "I don't know if we can rely on that anymore. Just…please, for all of our sakes, _start playing the role you've been given._"

Another sip. Another sigh. "I'm trying, I really am. It's just…heh…" A shake of the head, a sip, a sigh. "Nevermind. I'll read it. Drink?"

Kiyoshiro _wanted _to say _no, _and knew that he should. But…

"As a matter of fact, my lord, I think I will take a drink."

Yoshihito waved at the bottle. "Help yourself. You're the one who keeps it coming, after all."

Kiyoshiro had to admit that was true. He took a drink, then another, and only then departed, praying that the small bit of hope he was feeling wasn't due to the whiskey.

It was. The speech was a disaster. Yoshihito even got booed.

* * *

Oh, Yoshihito. He's like the Starscream of this AU; he just can't get anything right. He even seems to kind of fail at being a failure.

Or is he? Only time will tell...time, and this fanfic.

Forgot to mention this, but, to the lovely inthehood: Actually, the idea that "merely thinking of treason is worthy of forced seppuku" is a product of post-Meiji, pre-WW2 Japan, when the militarized government worked hard to drum this idealized version of the samurai era into people's heads. The reality was that the samurai stabbed each other in the back all the time, and seppuku was not a punishment for treason but, rather, the punishment if you failed at your treason. If you won, and got what you wanted, well, you weren't a traitor, were you? The samurai, in the end, are a lot like medieval knights: Violent thugs who ended up with good publicity.

Oh, yeah, and Lady Kaelyn? _I know. _There's a reason why _parting of the ways _is my shorthand for, _Here There Be Feels. _It's also nice to know that someone besides the wife and I appreciate Christopher Eccleston for the job he did.

Oh, and this: imgur gallery/ utUDo6W (without the spaces, of course)

Moving on! In the next chapter, Korra goes on trial, and some weird shit happens. Stay tuned!


	54. THE TRIBUNAL

THE TRIBUNAL

KORRA HAD NEVER BEEN MORE TERRIFIED IN HER ENTIRE LIFE. Even the moment when La bonded with her soul, bringing forth a pain that went beyond the capacity of words to describe, making her feel like she was being torn apart from the inside-out, her very _being _wrapped in flames, paled in comparison to this.

She was in another room, unlike any she had ever seen. Once more, the boundary between what was real and what was not faded into insignificance. Nothing seemed right, shapes and colors and sounds blurring, melding into one another, shifting and twisting into and around and through each other. She moved without being aware that she was moving, uttered words that didn't seem to exist, watched people change from old to young and back again, right before her very eyes.

_If she even __**had **__eyes…_

They were all there, every single one, her past lives, stretching up and up and up, a seemingly endless succession, reaching into the void. It was bewildering, a riot of conflicting sensations that crashed upon her consciousness and threatened to tear it asunder. She wanted to cry, to fall to her knees and press her hands to her ears and drown it all out. She wanted her friends, wanted them with a desperation she hadn't thought humanly possible.

That was funny word to her now, _human. _What did that even mean, here, in this place that wasn't a place, that existed without existing? What was even happening? Was _anything _actually doing something so mundane as _happening? _She didn't know.

She wasn't sure she wanted to.

She wasn't even sure she _could _know.

_It was all just so confusing…_

_ Nothing made sense…_

Not even the charges made sense. Try as she might, she just couldn't seem to wrap her mind around them. In essence, she stood accused of putting the balance of the world in permanent jeopardy, and thus abrogating her duties as the Avatar. _The Avatar, _her past lives explained, in a voice that was a thousand-and-one, that left her feeling hollowed out, exposed, _naked, the Avatar, _the thousand who were one told her, _does not take sides. The Avatar is the world. The Avatar has one goal: To maintain the balance of the world. Nothing more, and nothing less. _

_ But what does that mean? _she asked. Or did she? She didn't know. She couldn't remember. She had been here so _long. _Five minutes. Five hours. Five days. _Five years._

_ It was all the same here._

_ All the same…_

_ Repeatedly, _they told her, over and over again, once, many times, she couldn't tell, _you have acted without considering whether or not your actions were worthy of an Avatar. You have interfered in local squabbles. You have upset the balance, rather than restored it. You have used your powers without due consideration for the consequences, either for yourself or for the world. You have concerned yourself with your friends, rather than with humanity._

_ But my friends __**are **__humanity. If I cannot help my friends, how can I help humanity?_

_ That is not the business of the Avatar. That is not the concern of the Avatar. By asking, you reveal your shortcomings, and make the decision of this tribunal all the easier._

_ But…I __**have **__acted to restore the balance… I have fought against those who would oppress mankind. I have worked to bring the people together-_

Roku slammed his fist down upon a table. Or was it a counter? A bar? Was it Roku? Maybe it was Kyoshi…or Yangchen…or Kuruk…

_Maybe even Wan…_

She couldn't tell. They were all, and none, many, and few. Infinity…

_And one…_

_ No one…_

_ Her…_

_ Them…_

_**Me…**_

_Is this what I will become?_

_ Is this what it means to be the Avatar?_

_**That is not balance! **__The nations must be kept apart, one evening out the other. Fire counteracts water, earth counteracts air, and they all counteract the other. When one seeks to rise above the other, it is the duty of the Avatar to put it back into its place. Balance requires separation. Balance requires order. Balance requires a return to the way things were._

_ But things __**weren't **__balanced! Things were __**awful! **__The Fire Lords tyrannized their own people, the Earth Emperors ruled through ignorance and oppression, the Southern Water Tribes were constantly at each other's throats, the Northern Water Tribe treated women like chattel, the Air Nomads argued so much that they forgot there even __**was **__a world other than their own. _

_ But the world was at __**peace.**_

_No it wasn't! There was no peace! A world where foot binding and child marriage and legalized rape exist is not a world at peace!_

_**Those are not the concerns of the Avatar! **__What the nations do within their borders is none of our concern, so long as the balance of the world is maintained. _

_ Then what is the point of the Avatar?_

The eyes of the Avatar narrowed. Had she really said that? Had she just thought it? Was this even happening? Did such distinctions matter here?

She shook her head. The pain…she wanted to cry. She wanted to run away.

_I want to go __**home!**_

The Avatar was speaking. Speaking to her. Through her. _Into her. _

_ The Avatar does not __**have **__a home. The Avatar is the world, and the world is the Avatar. The world is the Avatar's only concern. Man, woman, old, young, earth, fire, water, air, the Avatar must be above all of that. _

_ Do you think that it was easy for me, _Kyoshi said, _to stand and watch as Chin the Conqueror brutalized an entire nation?_

_ But you did stop him, _Korra replied. _The second he threatened your own home, you dropped him into the sea, swatted him like he was a fly. _

Kyoshi shook her head. _It wasn't like that._

_ Then how was it?_

_ You obviously don't understand._

_ Explain it to me._

_ I'm trying to._

_ We're all trying to. _The Avatar was speaking again. _We have all faced trials, faced temptations. Some of us rose to the challenge, some of us fell. Your own predecessor chose his people over the world, and plunged us all into darkness._

_ But…but what gives us the right? By what right do we make these decisions?_

_ Because we are the Avatar._

_ But why?_

_ I have answered that question._

_ No, you haven't._

_ Yes, we have._

_ We are the Avatar because we are, and we are because we are the Avatar._

_ But…but…_

_ But…_

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

She opened her eyes. All were staring at her.

Roku was before her, snapping his fingers. "Any day now, girl. Time may be meaningless here, but I assure you, outside this place, the world awaits your return. Will it be you, or shall we restart the cycle again? Shall we make the world wait, or shall the world's Avatar rise to the occasion, and fulfill her duty? What say you?"

She looked down, down at the ground, which wasn't ground, but was. "But I…didn't we…didn't we already have this discussion?"

Kyoshi sighed, shaking her head. "No, child, we did not. You have said not a word in your defense. We have been waiting."

Yangchen leaned forward. "Please, dear, speak. The world needs you. It needs its Avatar. I know you're confused right now, but we need you to not worry about that. Many of us _want _you to be the Avatar."

Kuruk cleared his throat. "You, and only you. You have it within yourself to be great."

"If she can stop acting like a stupid _child," _Roku growled, "and open her mouth."

She was looking up again, her eyes scanning the world around her, the world that existed beyond that other world, the world that existed within her soul. She looked at them all, directly in the eye. They watched her constantly, she knew, as they would. Were they not in her, a part of her? Did she not draw on their experiences, their knowledge, and they on hers? Did they not…

_Did they not…_

She looked at Aang, and Aang looked right back at her. He smiled, and he winked.

She nodded, and tried not to smile back.

She knew what she had to do.

She had made her choice.

She would be the Avatar, and do what should have been done…

_A long time ago…_

_No matter what it takes, no matter how hard it is..._

**_No matter what it costs me..._**

She held her head up high, and stood her ground, looking proud, shoulders back, chin up, just like Katara had taught her to do.

_No more._

She started to talk.

* * *

If you ended up a bit confused, _good. _My work here is done. I've always been a believer that if things aren't completely clear to the POV character, then they shouldn't be completely clear to us, especially when we're watching a scene play out in some metaphysical realm beyond our ability to fully comprehend.

But enough about that. This is, after all, one of those occasions where there's such a thing as _too much information._

Moving on! In the next chapter, we once again see the last person we wanted to see. Stay tuned!


	55. JIRO IV

JIRO

WHEN JIRO HAD BEEN AT THE ROYAL MILITARY ACADEMY, HE HAD HEARD A STORY, OFT-REPEATED, FROM A TIME WHEN _FIRE LORD IROH _WAS MERELY _CROWN PRINCE IROH. _The specifics, as he later discovered, were quite long and complicated, but what it boiled down to was that, during the campaign to secure the southern Earth Kingdom, after the fall of Omashu, two generals made two attacks, and failed to secure their objectives. The first general fell to his knees before the Crown Prince, begging for forgiveness, going on-and-on about how unworthy he was, how he had failed, how His Royal Highness should cast him aside, the usual, really. Naturally, the Crown Prince had stripped the man of his rank and command and sent him off to run a penal mine, with the implication being that, if the man committed _seppuku, _no one would be overly upset.

The second general, though, was too tired for flattery. He stood to attention, bowed, and calmly recited what had gone wrong. He listed his own mistakes, the mistakes of his subordinates, then, politely but firmly, reprimanded His Royal Highness for not providing him with up-to-date intelligence that would have prevented the assault in the first place.

The second general, naturally, was promoted.

Jiro didn't really know if he believed the story; after all, it had a bit too much in common with a similar anecdote that dated back to Fire Lord Meiji's day. Still, he felt that, regardless of the truth, the lesson itself was quite valid. And so, when he finally appeared at the outer edges of His Majesty's camp outside of Omashu, Jiro did not whine or look sad or act depressed or even apologize for his tattered appearance. Instead, he presented himself to the nearest duty officer, proved his credentials, and asked to see His Majesty.

He didn't have to wait long. It turned out that His Majesty was expecting him.

He stood tall and proud when he was finally brought before the Fire Lord. He admitted everything, denied nothing, defended himself without seeming defensive. Then he stood, at perfect attention, for all that his uniform was little more than a shredded rag and he was wearing a dead man's _katana. _He stood, silent and still, and waited.

And for a long time, the Fire Lord waited with him, sitting in a stiff, unadorned, standard military-issue chair, sipping what smelled like plain soldier's tea, and looking at Jiro with eyes half-closed. A man of lesser insight than Jiro would have been forgiven for thinking that His Majesty had either fallen asleep, or was in the process of doing so.

Jiro, though, knew better.

The Fire Lord began to nod, so slow that it was almost imperceptible. Jiro found himself resisting the urge to nod along with him. He was finding it hard to keep a grip on things. It was strange, really, now that he had time to think about it. It was like everything was…

_Was…_

_ It's like everything's gone a little fuzzy…_

_ And I keep hearing Kojima's voice in my head…_

"Right." One word, that was all, uttered in a clipped military tone. Everything about the Fire Lord seemed to have changed. He no longer looked burdened by an unfathomable weight. He wore a general's duty uniform, no medals, only rank and insignia. He had lost weight, his beard had been trimmed, his hair pulled into a simple officer's topknot, even his face seemed younger, freer.

Jiro couldn't help but find himself thinking that His Majesty Fire Lord Iroh had never looked so much like a king before. He wondered at that, wondered at a lot of things, really. His mind was doing that. It kept…

_Kept wandering…_

He gave himself a subtle shake, pushed his strange thoughts aside, and decided to wait some more.

He didn't have to wait long.

The Fire Lord took a final sip from his cup, set it upon the saucer he held in his other hand, and set them both on the little table at his side. Then, he set his elbows on the arms of his chair and made a steeple from his fingertips.

Only then, did he speak.

"Did you ever find out his real name?"

Jiro frowned. "Kojima's, Your Grace?"

The Fire Lord nodded. "Who else?"

Jiro wasn't sure he saw the point in this particular train of thought, but also couldn't think of what he should do about it. "No, Your Grace. He gave me one, before I struck his head from his shoulders, but that, too, was a lie."

The Fire Lord sighed. "Indeed. You know, I actually looked into…oh, nevermind. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure it matters. Just an old man's curiosity, really. Still…and what of my nephew, and my niece? Are you sure they are, in fact, alive?"

Jiro nodded. "I can confirm your niece, Your Grace. I personally saw the Princess Azula wearing Air Nomad armor and fighting alongside the enemy."

"Hmm…are they our enemies, if so many of them are our own people? Take some of the generals in this very expedition. General Ikeda, who is my second-in-command, as you may know, has three sons in the military, and yesterday it was confirmed that two are serving in units that have mutinied, and are still alive and active, no less."

"I see…and the third?"

"The third was apparently killed during the chaotic battles in the northwest, apparently while fighting a unit his brother led."

Jiro had to struggle against a confused frown. "I'm not sure I see the significance, Your Grace…"

The Fire Lord made a curious expression, one that Jiro just couldn't quite decipher. "Yes, I was afraid you wouldn't…and my nephew?"

This would be the delicate one. Jiro knew that Zuko was alive and well, as much as he knew that his own name was _Jiro. _But he couldn't just come out and admit that, could he? There were too many variables, too many unknowns, to even _predict _his half-uncle's reaction, should the man receive conclusive, undeniable proof. _But I can't just outright deny it, either, can I? Or sound like I am…_

_ Think, think, think…_

"I didn't see him myself, Your Grace," he said, before he was even fully aware of what he was doing, "and things were too…ahem…_chaotic _after the battle to confirm anything. That said…the Ninety-Fourth Infantry was there, and put up a hell of a fight. And if the Princess Azula was there…"

"…then my nephew could not have been far, could he?" the Fire Lord finished. "Though it might be better if he was; my niece is dangerous, but she would be less dangerous, I think, were her brother not alive to give her a reason to rein in that temper of hers…"

Without warning, the Fire Lord stood. He snatched the cup and saucer off its table, walked over to a teapot that rested on a side board. He struck up a strange little tune, humming to himself as he poured the tea, bent some warmth into it, took a sip, nodded.

Jiro, meanwhile, was finding that his grip on things was slipping again. His head began to ache, his hands to shake. He had a sudden vision of himself, standing before the Bei Fong's mansion in Gaoling, the air thick with screams and the iron scent of blood…

_A strange little tune in his head…_

"Your Grace?"

"Hmm?" the Fire Lord replied, not turning around.

"What is that tune? I've heard it before, but…"

The Fire Lord chuckled. "I did not peg you as a musical man, Jiro. The tune is an old one, popular when I was your age, but maybe not so much anymore. It's called, _The Girls in Ba Sing Se. _There are, of course, two versions, one rather innocent, the other decidedly less so. Still…it's always had a special place in my heart." He took another sip, and only then did he turn to face Jiro.

Jiro wasn't entirely sure he liked the look on the man's face.

_Mostly because I can't quite figure out what it means…_

When the Fire Lord spoke again, his voice was hard and cold, a soldier's voice, _a general's voice. _Jiro found himself being rather impressed.

_Among other things that he would never admit, even to himself…_

"Colonel Matsuura, while I cannot condone some of your methods, I must admit that I am impressed in the progress you made. You did your best, and you cannot be faulted for that, especially considering that you were handicapped from the start. For that, you are to be commended; no other soul in the world has come as close to ending the threat of the Avatar as you did. Now, I know that you are tired, but I still have one more task left for you to do."

Jiro bowed his head. "I live to serve Your Majesty."

The sound the Fire Lord made sounded remarkably like a scoff, but Jiro couldn't bring himself to believe that. "Indeed," the Fire Lord said. "What I need you to do is return to the Homeland. Go to Miyako, and report to the Lord Chancellor, Lord Imawano Kiyoshiro. I can't help but feel that my old friend Lord Imawano may be in need of your…shall we say…_talents._ Do you accept this mission?"

Jiro bowed low at the waist, and thought. He thought hard, and he thought fast, though…_the thoughts aren't coming as fast as they used to, are they? Not as fast…_

He frowned. _No matter. Focus, Jiro, __**focus. **__What is my uncle actually saying?_

_ He's saying that I've become an embarrassment. I've failed, and now he's going to pack me off to Miyako, where his close, personal friend, now the __**Lord Chancellor **__of all things, can keep a close and careful eye on me. He's saying that he doesn't care to have me in the field, but, at the same time, he's disinclined to leave me to my own devices. He's saying, __**Go home, little boy, and stay put until I can come and deal with you.**_

_ And he also hasn't said a word about the Avatar's challenge…_

Jiro had to struggle hard not to smile as he rose. "I obey Your will, Your Majesty. I shall not fail You again."

The Fire Lord nodded, sipped his tea, and finally smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. You leave on an airship first thing in the morning. Dismissed."

Jiro bowed. "Thank you, Your Grace." And then he left.

The giggle came later, when he had just stepped out of a hot bath. He was toweling his hair, glaring at the stubble coating his face as he examined himself in the mirror, when, out of nowhere, he _giggled. _Only one giggle, though, just one. It popped right out, so fast that, for a moment, he wasn't entirely sure if it had even happened, or was just a figment of his imagination. He couldn't even be sure it actually _was _a giggle.

After all, he had never giggled before…right?

_Right?_

He shook his head. _It doesn't matter. I'm going to the Palace. I still have a chance._

_ I'm not beaten yet._

It never occurred to him to notice that, while he was smiling, his reflection was not. He was too busy trying to decide what that movement was that he noticed out of the corner of his eye. For some reason, he was certain that it was Kojima. He couldn't figure out why he thought that, though.

* * *

If I did my job right, you should be wondering right now if Jiro's just cracking up, if Kojima worked some sort of magic on him, or both, or neither. Something's up, that's for sure.

And Jiro has barely even _begun _to be a pain in the ass.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Suki wonders if she should get a haircut. Stay tuned!


	56. SUKI III

SUKI

"DO YOU THINK I SHOULD GET A HAIRCUT? I can't quite make up my mind. On the one hand, you know, we had to keep our hair cut to chin-length in the Order, so that's pretty much all I know. I really don't know anything about long hair, or working with long hair, or anything like that. So, you know, a part of me _wants _to cut it back to that length, but…I dunno…whenever I find myself looking at it in a mirror, I can't seem to make up my mind…"

There was no response, of course, not that Suki expected one. She was in the bathroom attached to Korra's room, examining her hair in the mirror. Korra slumbered in the bedroom itself, and Suki, in a moment of girlish weakness that she found a bit disconcerting, had found herself drawn to the mirror, as all mirrors drew her these days. She really couldn't decide what to think about her hair. It had grown to between her shoulders, to the point where she was often obliged to wear it in a ponytail. It had even begun to acquire a hint of curl, and in a weird trick of the light, the longer it grew, the less dark it seemed.

She sighed, making a face at herself through the mirror.

"Ugh, it's just so…_ugh. _Everyone in the Order had the exact same haircut, you know? So we just didn't think about these things. The wedding was the first time I'd ever had something legitimately _done _to it. And, I mean, I liked what Ty came up with, but it seemed a lot of work, you know? I'm not so sure I'm ready for that. Though…"

She bit her lip, wandering back into the bedroom proper to lean against the wall at the foot of Korra's bed. It was a beautiful day outside, bright and with a hint of the coming spring's warmth in the air, but it was Suki's turn to sit with Korra, so here she was, more or less talking to herself. Not that she minded; it was only fair. Toph was out beyond the causeway, sparring with the earthbenders among the unit of rebels, Lobsang was in a meeting with a bunch of elders (apparently from all three remaining main temples, and many minor ones, which seemed to be a big change of some sort), and Sokka had taken over Asami's training for the afternoon. Next up, after dinner, it would be Asami's turn to sit with Korra.

_I wonder what she talks about, when she's in here? Or any of the others… _She knew that everyone did it, when they were alone with Korra, the _talking. _It was slightly creepy, when she thought about it, and, as far as she could tell, everyone agreed. Only Katara and Azula had demurred, Katara because, well, _Katara, _and Azula because of her experience sitting with her brother after his burning.

_Which is a story I really wish I hadn't asked for, gods help me._

_ Anyways…_

"It's funny," she said, finding that she had pulled her hair over one shoulder and was now running her fingers through it, something she had seen all the other girls do, but never her. "According to Asami, hair this length is actually the _easiest _to deal with. Apparently, all I really have to do is put it in a ponytail or a sloppy bun like Azula is always doing and call it a day. Still…maybe I should keep growing it out? I mean, it's started to show this bit of a curl, and if it ended up like Katara's, you know, I don't think I would mind…though, maybe not _that _long. Katara is always saying that it can be a real _bitch _to keep clean. Maybe just keep it like this…"

She sighed, shaking her head, a ghost of a smile on her face.

"And, if you don't mind, let's just stay away from the subject of how the world is in the process of exploding, and I'm standing here with a comatose Avatar, talking about my freaking _hair. _Then again…you can't talk about death and destruction _all _the time, and…"

She took a deep breath, let it out. She suddenly felt the need for something to drink, something strong and bracing and, if at all possible, grotesquely alcoholic, like the homemade _baiju _that the farmers quaffed at harvest time back on Kyoshi. She closed her eyes, and saw it. Her first war, her first battle…

_Her first kill…_

_ He couldn't have been much older than me…_

_ They said they were all evil, but…_

_ There's always a good one, isn't there?_

_ And what if he was one of them…_

She shook her head, pushed the thoughts away, just like the others had taught her to.

"Can I tell you something, Korra? Just between the two of us? I…I have nightmares sometimes…or…I don't know _what _to call them. I haven't told anybody…I don't want them to worry or anything, and I'm afraid…everyone else has been through so much worse, but…the thing is…the nightmares? _They're from when I was a kid, _from before I went to Kyoshi. I haven't dreamed about that since…I don't think I _ever _dreamed about that. But…"

She sighed. _No, no more of that. If you can't tell Asami, or Sokka, or even Lobsang, or, hell, even Zuko, he tried so hard to give you advice, but you wouldn't tell him anything, wouldn't admit to anything, and he didn't push it, because that's how he is, and…_

"You know what? Screw that. So, back to my hair…hmm…you know, I'm pretty sure that this is the most I've ever talked about my hair in my entire _life. _I used to have longer hair, though, when I was a little girl. My mother used to sing to me as she braided it. I remember that, remember that very clearly. At least, now I do…I never used to think about that…but…do you think this length could be braided properly? I bet Asami would know. I'd ask Sokka, I mean, he has wonderful hair, like his sister, but only knows how to do one thing with his, and besides, he'd probably be all, _Huh? What about your hair? Oh, looks nice. So, show me that thing with the sword again…_heh…boy's been with not one, but _two _princesses, and he's still a big-"

"I like your hair."

To say that Suki was shocked would be an understatement along the lines of saying that Katara has been known to be a bit pushy. Without being fully aware of what was happening, Suki found herself staring down at Korra, her mouth hanging open, her eyes so wide that they felt like they were about to pop out of her skull.

Not that Korra seemed to notice. She was just sitting up in bed, brushing hair from her face, looking as if she had just woken up from a simple little nap.

"Um…what now?"

Korra smiled, looking a bit lost and confused. "You were talking about hair, right? I was saying, well…I like your hair. Did it get longer, or is that just me?" She looked around, blinking in the gloom. "Also…where is everybody?"

Suki poked a finger up into the air. "Can you…like…hold on, just a minute?"

Korra gave a garbled little smile. "Um…sure…?"

"Awesome." And with that, Suki was halfway down the hall before she even had time to take a breath.

* * *

Korra's up! But has she returned, or just the Avatar? I guess you'll have to read on to find out what consequences her decision before the tribunal will bring about.

Because, trust me, something's up. Something very profound, and very dangerous.

Anyways, that's five, an all for this morning. Time to get on with my day! For those playing the home game, I'm doing chores. I gotta renew my car registration, and some other crap, too. Also, real quick, does anyone know if you can register at Barnes &amp; Noble for weddings? My mom's through the wife and I a kind of wedding shower in June, and if we could register at B&amp;N, I don't think we'd bother going anywhere else.

Maybe Target. We need a mixing bowl. But I digress.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Sokka wonders what Suki's so excited about. Stay tuned!


	57. SOKKA V

SOKKA

IN THE BEGINNING, BACK WHAT FELT LIKE A LIFETIME AGO, SOKKA HADN'T PUT MUCH EFFORT INTO LEARNING LANGUAGES. Part of it was because, at many times, the group he was in was not just all Water Tribe, but all _his particular subset_ of Water Tribe. Another part of it was that it was always just so easy to let Katara handle things. She had taken language lessons even before they found out about Korra, and she was just so…well…_her. _

But the biggest part, really, when he sat down and talked it over with himself, was simply that it had never occurred to him that he had all that much to learn. After all, he was a chief's son, which in the South meant that he was, by his people's standards, quite well educated. He could read and write, speak Inuktitut and his tribal dialect fluently, he was good at math, he could even draw passably well. Add that in with everything else he knew, like how to skin and dress a penguin-seal in under five minutes, well…

_Then I met Yue. _That had been a big eye-opener. It made him realize just how much he had to learn, just how much he _could _learn. And then Katara left them for over a year, and he couldn't rely on her to do the hard parts anymore. So he had sat down with Azula, learned solid Guangzhou and barely passable Putonghua, and had sponged up as much of her absurdly comprehensive royal education as he possibly could.

_Except Nihongo. Never thought I'd actually need that one, except for the swear words._

Which was all a long way of saying that training sessions with Asami could often be…well…_painful. _

Such as now, when he was trying to walk her through the finer points of sword-fighting. What he was trying to teach her right now was that, when fighting an opponent who had a sword, you did not, contrary to everything your body and your instincts tried to tell you, watch the sword. No, instead, you needed to _watch your opponent. _This was, as he knew quite well, the single hardest part of learning how to fight. You wanted to watch the fists, the sword, the tip of the spear, or, when fighting a bender, you wanted to keep your eyes peeled on what they were currently doing with the elements.

But that was a _very bad idea. _By the time whatever weapon your opponent was using began to move, if you weren't already prepared, it was too late. You had to watch your opponent, read their mode, observe their muscles expand and contract. You had to be aware of feints, pick up on their weaknesses, get a handle on their habits, that sort of thing.

It was a complicated concept to get across, even more so now. Because, see, Asami spoke urbane, polished, upper-crust Putonghua, while Azula had taught him the basic version of the same language, and there was…well…_a bit of a gap _between the two.

He sighed, shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Asami stood across from him on the training field, looking deeply confused, rubbing her thigh where he had just struck it with his wooden practice sword. He steeled his nerves, shook himself out, and tried again.

"Alright," he said, speaking slowly and carefully, using plenty of hand motions and facial expressions and feeling very much like a jackass, "watch me carefully, okay? Right." He assumed a very basic form. "See how my muscles move as I prepare to strike?" He demonstrated, talking as he ran through the form several times. "See how everything I do is…um…_previewed, _shall we say, by how my body moves? Don't watch the sword, watch me. I know it's hard to wrap your mind around, but this is the next step, alright?" Asami started to look a bit forlorn, and he put on his best lopsided grin.

"Hey, kid, it's cool. It took me, like, _forever _to get this down. Drove my father _bonkers. _We must've run through this exercise…gods…I don't even _know _how many times, and I was black-and-blue with bruises by the time I…um…Asami?"

Asami was looking right past him, a curious look on her face. She pursed her lips into a kind of sideways quirk, raising her practice sword to point over his shoulders, saying something that he was pretty sure meant, _What's up with Suki?_

He turned, pretty sure Asami's confused expression was mirrored by his own. Sure enough, Suki was running pell-mell towards them, arms waving wildly in the air, hair flying, screaming at the top of her lungs. He scratched the back of his head, intensely curious. "Your guess is as good as mine," he said to Asami, before tossing his practice sword to the ground and walking towards Suki. "Hey, Suk! What the hell? You alright, girl?"

It took a minute or two, but Suki reached them, by which he meant that she tried to skid to a stop, failed, and bowled right into him, knocking him into the dirt. Both of them cursing in their native tongues, they disentangled themselves, Asami jumping in to help out. That done, it took a good five more minutes for Suki to gasp down enough breath to finally blurt out her message.

"_Korra! She's…awake! She's…she's…__**she's awake!"**_

Sokka's mouth dropped open, and he felt no shame in admitting that. He looked to Asami, but the girl was already running off, shouting, "I know, I'll get Toph!"

By the time he turned back to Suki, he was pretty sure the grin he had on his face was the dumbest one in a lifetime of stupid grins. Suki had the same look, and she did nothing to stop him when he picked her up and spun her around.

_Right, _he thought, laughing like a loon, _**that's **__what hope feels like…_

* * *

Every time in one of these fics that I have to write the word _bender, _I giggle. My Commonwealth readers will get why.

So, first, apologies. I am moving...like..._super slow _today. I have no idea. It's kind of annoying. There's really no reason. I had a couple drinks with the wife last night, but I wasn't hungover or anything, which I would've preferred, because that can be easily fixed. Nope, I'm just..._meh, _today.

And I have shit to do, too. _Blargh._

This chapter pretty much speaks for itself, so I'll keep on rolling. As for the comment on languages, the difference between the Mandarin (or Putonghua) that Asami learned and speaks and the mangled form Azula had time to teach Sokka is kind of like the difference between the English the Queen speaks and the English my mother-in-law speaks. In short, they're almost two entirely different langues. Plus, this is a technical sort of conversation, which can often leave non-native speakers fumbling for words.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Azula has a brainstorm, and I write a chapter that's far too long. Stay tuned!


	58. AZULA III

AZULA

"ALRIGHT, HOLD ON, BACK UP, SHOW ME THAT MOVE AGAIN."

Azula watched, very closely, as Katara ran through the form. It was, as far as Azula knew, a very simple one, which basically consisted of taking water from one place, bending it across your body, keeping it formed and stable, before depositing it in another spot. The training field was, like most firebending practice fields, surrounded by gutters full of water (_for obvious reasons_), so Katara had a lot to work with.

Azula pursed her lips, deep in thought, tapping her finger against her chin. After two weeks of frenzied, borderline chaotic activity, they finally had a day off. They were leaving for the Homeland the day after next, and as excited as Azula was, she was also nervous, and in desperate need for blowing off some steam. Hence, she had challenged her sister-in-law to some good, clean sparring. It was during their warm-ups that this particular form caught Azula's eye, and now she couldn't stop watching, couldn't tear her eyes away.

_There's something there, something lurking at the back of my mind…some strange little itch that I can't quite scratch…I just…I dunno…_

_ Something about what she's doing…_

"Want me to do it again?" Katara asked, in Nihongo, which she was practicing around the clock recently, refusing to speak or hear anything else.

Azula nodded, still tapping that finger to that chin. "If you don't mind," she said, switching to Inuktitut, "and, yes, I know," she continued, raising a hand, "only Nihongo, but, I'd appreciate it if you explained what's going on here."

Katara smiled. "Not at all. You can only really explain waterbending in the language of water, after all. So…what exactly do you want to know about it?" She said all this as she continued to bend, moving the water back and forth from gutter to gutter, getting a little more elaborate and intricate each time. She was, Azula saw, blatantly showing off.

Azula allowed herself a little smirk. _I definitely approve. There's a reason I like this girl. _

"Well," she said, "what's the purpose of it? I know it looks pretty basic, compared to some of the stuff I've seen you do, but it seems important."

Katara nodded, still bending, her developing smirk mirroring Azula's own…which, naturally, Azula approved of. As she'd always tried to tell her brother, _It's not bragging if you can back it up. _Zuko had, of course, tried to explain to her (_oh, gods, how long ago was that…we were only kids, but it couldn't have been __**that **__long…_) that that was the very _essence _of bragging, but Azula, naturally, had made up her mind not to listen.

_But back to Katara…_

"What it is, in essence," her sister-in-law began, "is a training exercise. From what Zuko's told me, firebending is all about…mastering the energy of your element, right?"

Azula rolled her head from side-to-side. "Kind of…? The thing about fire is that it's so dangerous; you have to keep it tightly controlled at all times, or else bad things tend to happen. What we do, in essence, is marshal the energy of our life force and direct that outwards, and if we're not in complete control, it'll come back at us."

"Right. Well, you see, waterbending isn't like that. You can't _control _water like you can control fire. Water has a kind of…shall we say…_life of its own. _This exercise is supposed to emphasize that, and help you practice letting the energy of the element flow _through you._"

"Without losing any of its power."

"Precisely."

"So, you don't fight with your element?"

Katara shook her head. "Not at all. If you do, you'll lose what little control you have. Water can only be harnessed; it fights you every step of the way. I take it fire's not like that?"

"It's not," Azula admitted, pausing for a moment to find the right words. "It's like…oh, how was it my instructor at the Girls' Academy explained it…it's like…if it's fighting against you, and you can actually feel that, you've already fucked up. But you're not trying to harness or control the flow of energy at all, are you?"

"Nope. Like I said, it's about the _flow. _We let the power pass _through us. _Is this making any sense?"

Azula could only shrug. "It is, actually. I've had a lot of time to watch water in action over the past year or so, so a lot of what you just said confirms what I've been thinking."

Katara frowned. "Korra didn't explain things very well, did she?"

Azula laughed. "No, she didn't. Girl's not much for the, you know, _meat _of bending."

Katara rolled her eyes and pinched her nose. "That girl, I swear…when I see her again, I'm going to sit her ass down in a library until she can actually _explain _what she's doing."

Azula sighed. "Yeah…you won't believe how long it took her to get the Fire Litany down."

A dark, strained look passed over Katara's face, but just for a moment, and it was gone before one could even be entirely sure it had ever been there. Azula caught it, though, because she was her, but she was also her brother's sister, which was why she didn't say a word as Katara went back to bending her water back and forth.

"So," Katara said, switching back to Nihongo, "may I ask what the point of that digression was?"

Azula shrugged once more, dropping into a practice form and bending forth a ball of flame between her hands, slowly making it go from orange to blue and back again, over and over. "I'm not sure. I guess it's something Zuko told me once, during one of his breaks from the Academy. Apparently, in the military back home, they have a whole department, devoted to studying other bending disciplines. Mostly, it's learning how to come up with new ways to counter attacks and breach defenses, but Zuko said that the sword-master at the Academy, this _Piandao _guy, had this theory that one could actually _improve _one's bending, by incorporating aspects from other disciplines."

"You know," Katara mused, her moment of darkness gone, "I think he might've been on to something. Sparring with your brother so much over the past year has definitely made some of my waterbending look like firebending, and some of his firebending look like waterbending."

"Right," Azula said, frowning at her flames, "but I think the guy meant a bit more than that, you know?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, what if, as a firebender, which has a lot in common with being a waterbender, but, yeah, what if I, as a firebender, could, you know…channel energy like you do?"

"Hmm…color me intrigued."

Azula smirked. "Heh. Well…" She had to pause, both to concentrate on a particularly tricky part of her exercise, that being making the ball both gradually change in color as well as gradually change in size, but also to think. Because, see, it was _there, _just at the outer edges of her consciousness. Something…something…_something…_

_ Something in the way Katara is moving…_

She sighed. _I'm on the verge of something. It feels like how Toph described figuring out metalbending. Something really important…_

She made a resolution to talk it over at dinner, with both her sister-in-law and her brother present. The Princess Azula was smart as hell, after all, and gifted to boot, but she was also smart enough to know that sometimes it helped to bounce an idea off of someone else.

"You know," she said, picking up where she left off, "I'm not entirely sure." A thought occurred to her, possibly unrelated, but she couldn't be certain. "Hey, did Zu-Zu ever tell you about light-"

"Hey there, pretty ladies."

Katara threw her water aside, her entire _being _lighting up as she walked over to Zuko, who had just appeared, looking, Azula had to admit, quite smart in his uniform, on the edge of the practice field to give him a hug and a kiss. Azula, trying not to gag, followed at a more sedate pace, giving her brother a light punch in the arm when she reached him. "Hey yourself, ass-face. What brings you out here?"

"You know," Katara said, moving to Azula's side to thread their arms together, "as much as I like seeing you, I gotta admit, my sister-in-law and I have a spar planned, and it's very much _no boys allowed. _So, what gives?"

Azula nudged the girl with her elbow. "Have I mentioned that I like you? Because I do."

Katara put on her most innocent face. "Well, who wouldn't like me? But back to my lovely husband…"

Zuko rolled his eyes as he pulled two folded up letters from inside his uniform jacket. "Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. And yes, I admit, I know when I'm not wanted, and I was going to steer clear, but while I was over at HQ, doing soldier stuff, two messages arrived, both very important. One is from the Homeland, from Toshiro, as a matter of fact."

Katara squealed, snatching the proffered letter from her husband's hand. "That's your buddy from the Academy, right?" Azula asked. "The one you palled around the Earth Kingdom with?"

Zuko nodded. "The very one. Turns out, he and his wife made it back home, through methods that are unclear, but don't matter. Point is, we now have a place to start our revolution. All we have to do is land in Sapporo, and the entire prefecture, along with all the ones around it, will declare for the revolution."

Azula's eyes went wide as she leaned over Katara's shoulder to read along. "Really?"

"I shit you not. And, before you ask, that includes all the troops stationed there, which gives us a nice place to start."

"Well," Katara said, still visibly struggling with the characters, though, Azula felt, doing quite well for a beginner, "that's a relief, considering that as of this morning, the best idea was to head west and hope for the best. Oh, and Toshiro says Song's good, too."

Zuko chuckled. "I know."

"What's the other letter?" Azula asked, still reading the first one over Katara's shoulder.

Zuko shrugged, and Azula was instantly on to him. His wife was too busy with the first letter to notice, but Azula knew her brother well. If there was one thing he sucked at more than anything, it was lying, or even so much as keeping a straight face. She watched, fascinated, as he desperately struggled to not smile, his mouth doing contortions that Azula found _highly _entertaining.

Azula didn't even bother trying not to roll her eyes and scoff, and, instead, performed those actions with gusto. "Just spit it out, Zu-Zu, before I snatch that note and spill your secret for you."

That caught Katara's attention. Popping up from behind the first letter, she tilted her head, giving her husband a piercing look. "What secret?"

Zuko shrugged, still, to Azula's amusement, trying to play it cool. _You really should stop, Zu-Zu; it's kind of sad, in a __**hugely **__entertaining sort of way. _"Well, I mean, it's no big deal, really…just, you know, a messenger hawk came from the Northern Air Temple today. I had to transcribe the damn thing, because, gods, your brother's handwriting…"

Suddenly, Katara was gone, leaving Azula with a crumpled up letter that had been shoved into her hands. She looked up, and found her sister-in-law in her brother's face, the girl holding the front of his uniform in a death grip, shaking him like a nearly-empty bottle of hot sauce.

_"What did my brother say what is the big deal why are you holding out on me oh gods is it real did it happen please tell me __**PLEASE TELL ME?!**_"

Zuko smiled, and gave his wife a kiss. "Like I said, no big deal, just that, you know…Korra's awake, sends her love, promises to give my uncle a punch in the mouth, just for you." He held out the letter. "See? No big!"

Her brother's efforts to keep cool were all for naught. Katara snatched the paper from Zuko's hands, read it once, then again, then once more. Over and over she read it, while Azula could only stare, and Zuko smiled.

Then Katara looked up, the most incredible smile Azula had ever seen in her entire _life _on the girl's face, and when she spoke, it was barely more than a whisper.

_"She's alive. She's going to be alright. She's…__**she's okay…"**_

Then Katara burst into the happiest tears Azula had ever witnessed.

Needless to say, since the former Princess Azula slept in a room right next to the couple's own, she made sure to put in some ear plugs before she went to sleep, feeling mildly irritated. Not because she begrudged them their relationship, or their joy, but, well…

_We're going home tomorrow. We're finally going __**home.**_

And the Princess Azula had a lot of debts to pay.

* * *

I'm going give Azula the right to figure out lightning redirection, because she's cool, and it's important for the story's climax. You know...this story has pretty much ruined my ability to write _Crazy Canon Azula _for, like, _life. _Don't know how I'm going to manage it in the future.

But I digress. Moving on! In the next chapter, a wild Bumi appears. Stay tuned!


	59. BUMI I

BUMI

"GRANDPA?"

"Hmm?"

"Why must you play the fool, in front of the ash-makers?"

Bumi chuckled, tapping a finger lightly on one of his pieces on the Pai Sho board. Across the table sat his eldest grandson, Huizhong, but apart from him, with the exception of Flopsie, he was completely alone. He liked it that way. His throne room was ostentatious enough without guards trying their best not to look bored in the corners and servants hovering at his elbows.

_They really shouldn't, _he mused to himself. _With elbows like mine, those servants hover to close, I'm liable to put an eye out, completely by accident. _He pondered that a bit more, remembering one particularly infuriating servant from his father's days. _Okay, maybe just __**mostly **__by accident…_

"Grandpa…?"

He gave himself a shake, his chuckle rising to sound, by his own frequent admission, wheezy and a bit odd. "Oh, sorry, Huizhong, just got lost wandering the corridors of my mind."

The boy (_which, _Bumi admitted, _is unfair; that __**boy **__is almost thirty_) let out his own chuckle, causing Bumi's mind to wander just enough to try to imagine how the boy (_young man, __**young man, **__you old coot_) would react, were he to be told that, when he laughed, he sounded just like his grandfather. _Looks like me, too, though I better not tell him that; he'd be liable to hurl himself off a cliff, and I wouldn't be able to blame him. _"I imagine it's quite _cavernous _in there," his grandson observed.

Bumi did something that could only be called _guffawing, _slapping his knee hard with the palm of his hand. "Oh, that's _good. _You're going to make an excellent king someday."

The young man (_see, you old bat, was that so hard?_) smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you, Grandpa. But, back to my question…"

Bumi frowned; he had honestly forgotten. "What was that?"

To Huizhong's credit, he did not sigh or look frustrated. Instead, he kept his smile, and asked, once more, "Why must you play such a fool before the ash-makers? I swear, it is only by the grace of the gods that I was able to keep my meal in my stomach, watching you cavort before our guest the Fire Lord."

Bumi contemplated the question…well, not his grandson's, another one entirely, as a matter of fact. "Well…you know," he said, tugging at what was only called a _goatee _due to the lack of a better word, "who's to say it's an act? Maybe I really am mad…"

"Pretended to have lost all your rocks for so long that you forgot where you stashed them?"

Bumi threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, you're on a _roll _today, my boy!"

His grandson bowed his head once more. "I learn from the best."

Bumi hooked a thumb at Flopsie, who was, at that moment, rolling from side to side on its back, flailing its feet in the air. "So, Flopsie?"

Huizhong shrugged. "Well, really, I was thinking of the court jester, but we'll go with Flopsie."

Bumi wagged a finger at his grandson. "Oh, what am I going to do with you, boy. But, since you asked, well…do you know the tale of Emperor Kuei?"

Huizhong's face fell, and his expression became grim. "How could I forget? Sure, I was young when the Fall came, but that's not something that fades easily from one's mind."

Bumi shrugged, reaching over to sip from the glass of water he kept balanced precariously on the edge of the table. "Says you. I can barely remember your father's name most of the time, much less anything else."

Huizhong frowned. "But…Father has the same name as you…"

Bumi gave his grandson his wildest, craziest eyes. "_Exactly!_" Then, he laughed until tears came to his eyes, wiped them away, and calmly sipped his water. "So, what happened? What led to the Emperor Kuei, gods guide his eternal soul into the arms of his ancestors, to shuffle off this mortal coil?"

Huizhong paused to fight down the chuckles his grandfather's jest had given him before he answered. "When the then Crown Prince Iroh shattered the Second Wall of Ba Sing Se, and began to prepare for an assault on the city itself, the Emperor's advisors begged him to flee the city. He did not, and what was more, ordered the Army to prepare for a last stand."

Bumi nodded. "He intended to remain defiant to the bitter end." He sighed, shaking his head. "Silly boy…he should've left while he still had the chance, but he was young and determined to make up for the mistakes of his father and his grandfather, if only by standing tall where they did not." He settled his chin into the palm of his hand, and suddenly felt very sad. "They never should have dragged him away from his books. But please, continue."

"Yes, Grandpa. Well…the people, for the most part, were ready to fight. They had no love for the Jade Throne at that point, but still, the Emperor _was _the Emperor. The upper classes, though, those who lived in the Upper Ring, were terrified. Crown Prince Iroh was known to be a reasonable man, but even reasonable men can become…well…_less so, _if provoked."

"And thus," Bumi continued, "they went to Long Feng."

Huizhong's expression turned from solemn and serious to savage, a shift that Bumi, for all of his kindness, wholeheartedly approved of. "_They went to Long Feng. _Long Feng knew the jig was up, it was only a matter of time, so, with the support of much of the population of the Upper Ring, he launched a coup, clapped Kuei in chains, and opened the gates to the Crown Prince."

Bumi closed his eyes. "And what did Kuei do?"

Only now, did Huizhong smile. "When brought before the city's conqueror, he spat in the man's face, and made clear that, for all that he had failed as Emperor, and was neither suited for it or even wanted it, he was still the Emperor, and that those who sit the Jade Throne must never submit. The Crown Prince, it seemed, was inclined to be merciful, but Fire Lord Azulon was not. Thus, the Imperial Family was exterminated, root-and-stem, and Long Feng became Chancellor of Ba Sing Se, because it was felt that a city like that should be run by locals as much as possible."

Bumi smiled. "And what did I do, when we here in Omashu surrendered, once further resistance became pointless?"

Huizhong hung his head, and his voice dropped. "You bowed and scrapped and made as if defeat had robbed you of your sanity."

Bumi raised a finger, making it dance through the air, a soft smile on his face. "And yet…what is the difference between your batty old fool of a grandfather, and the Emperor Kuei, gods grant him eternal peace?"

Bumi would long savor the way realization spilled across his grandson's face. "You lived to fight another day."

"And now, the Avatar has returned, the peoples of the world are united, _more or less, _and the Fire Lord's own people have decided that they have had enough. Plus, come on, it's not that much of an act. I am a few diamonds shy of a full necklace."

Huizhong frowned, doing his best to parse apart that final phrase. "If you say so, Grandpa…" His head snapped up, and he looked to the doors, which had begun to open. "What's this?"

"What're you asking me for?" Bumi replied, but turned to watch. Into the cavernous and bizarrely decorated throne room came Bumi's chamberlain, who, without preamble, was racing across the floor towards them. Bumi rolled his eyes, and was about to reprimand the man for not observing any of the rules (_come on, I spend all day looking forward to the look on his face after he has to make that ridiculous knock_), until he saw the barely contained excitement etched into his face.

Bumi smiled, and finally caught sight of the letter clutched in his chamberlain's hand.

"On second thought," he mused, a happy tune playing in the back of his mind (_as usual_), "I think I do know what this is about."

"Oh?" his grandson asked, watching the approaching chamberlain just as intently. "What, then?"

The chamberlain stopped, bowed, and presented the letter, which Bumi snatched without hesitation.

"Why, lunch, of course."

His grandson rolled his eyes. "What, rotten lettuce?"

Bumi chuckled, unfolding the letter and beginning to read.

"Oh, now, I think we'll go with fresh lettuce this time."

_And maybe a few heads of cabbage, rolling across the floor, much later than they should've done, of course, but better late than never._

Not that Bumi had ever subscribed to that philosophy, especially when it came to lunch.

* * *

Once I got over my fear of attempting Bumi, and saw how well he turned out, I realized that I rather liked having him around. Thus, more Bumi, because you can never have enough Bumi, you know?

What's going on at the end? Well, you'll just to read on, won't you?

Moving on! In the next chapter, Zuko heads for home. Stay tuned!


	60. ZUKO IV

ZUKO

HE INHALED, DEEP, BREATHED IN UNTIL HE COULD BREATHE NO MORE. Spring was most definitely in the air, and his world tasted of salt and water and so much more. The sun hung low in the sky, and the sea was a carpet of twinkling diamonds the color of fire, the distant shore, fading further away with each passing minute, painted crimson and gold. It was a glorious sight, unmarred by war, and it stretched off into the horizon, almost eternally, it seemed.

It was, he decided, finally letting out his breath, but slowly, savoring every hint and note, a far better view of the Earth Kingdom than his first had been.

Beside him, leaning against the railing, his wife shivered, pulling her cloak tight about her body. Without even really thinking about it, he reached out, pulled her close. Instinctively, she settled in, nestling her head into the dip between his shoulder and the rise of his neck. He smiled, kissed her gently on the top of her head, let her sigh of pleasure warm his heart.

_This is all I ever want to do, _he realized, a bit startled by the force of his thoughts. _When this is all over, I never want to do anything else but be with her, and forget that I was ever anything besides a husband and a brother and a friend._

He smiled. _And if I ever hear the word __**prince **__again, I'll punch the one who said it._

He found his mind wandering, beyond his control. Somewhere in the massive land of which he was glimpsing only a sliver, deep in its bowels, the war was picking up again, and men and boys, women and girls, old and young, soldiers and civilians, monsters and innocents, were beginning once more to fight and to die, whether they wanted to or not. Armies were marching, rebels and mutineers heading south, towards Ba Sing Se and the lands around it, his uncle and loyalists and collaborators too scared to give in were marching north to meet them. To the south, ships were dancing, red against red against blue, and in the wake of this very ship, indeed, all around it, other ships, all red, were sailing west, battle-hardened veterans of a pointless war returning home to try and free the land that birthed them.

But here, on this ship, at this railing, all was at peace, even if only for a moment.

"What was your first glimpse of the Earth Kingdom?" He blinked in surprise, unsure that he was going to speak until he had, indeed, spoken.

Katara stirred, and he knew she was pursing her lips in thought, could practically feel the wheels turning in her head.

"Honestly," she said, her voice a bit wistful and sounding far away, "it wasn't much. The three of us, Sokka, Korra, and me, went to Patola first, to the Southern Air Temple, where we met Lobsang. We didn't get to stay there long, though; you people do have that big base there, and some of the minor temples and sects on Patola, Air Nomad though they may be, weren't as friendly to the idea of the Avatar as one would like."

He nodded, pushing away the doubts that clawed at his mind in his weaker moments. Sometimes, the degree to which humanity was prone to dividing itself, to squabbling and bickering and finding reasons to hate, astounded him, threatened to overwhelm him. _But not today, _he promised.

_Not today, not tomorrow, not ever._

"You know," he observed, tightening his grip around her body, "that base has gone over to us, pretty much as a whole. When my uncle ordered them to begin combat operations against the Air Nomads on the island, after he had passed on his way east, they tore down their banners, imprisoned the general in charge, and declared they would do no such thing."

He felt the smile form on his wife's face. "That's good. The fewer people have to die, the better."

"Amen to that. So, first sight of the Earth Kingdom."

"Right. So…we left at night, on Lobsang's air-bison, and flew hard to the northeast. We stopped and rested our ride on this random little island, I don't think it even had a name, it certainly didn't have any people, and then, as soon as night fell once more, we took off and flew as fast as we could for Kyoshi. Thus, the first glimpse of the Earth Kingdom I got was, sadly, in the middle of the night, and a foggy, cloudy night, too."

He chuckled, and gave her head another kiss. "You sound disappointed."

Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a little huff. "I was! You know how long I'd wanted to get out of the South? I mean, I love my people, and I love my family, but…I always felt…_trapped _there, like, I was meant for something _more, _somewhere out _there, _though where there actually _was, _I hadn't the faintest idea. All I knew of the world was from the occasional book that made its way to our lands, and when Dad asked me if I would go with Sokka and Korra into that world, well, let's just say that I jumped at it. And then, for my first glimpse of that great big world, like, my first _real _glimpse, to be on a foggy, overcast night, while my stomach lurched around in my belly because I still wasn't used to flying? It was a bit of a let-down."

He nodded, feeling introspective. "I see what you mean. That would be a bit of a bummer."

"You're telling me. That whole year ended up being like that. It was about a month later that your cousin caught wind of us, and then we were on the run, flying only at night. Then, Lobsang had to leave us and run a diversion, and we were _walking _all over the damn place, constantly running after Korra, who seemed to think it was all one big camping trip. You were just about the only genuinely bright spot the whole trip, to tell you the truth."

"And even then," he pointed out, "we spent most of our time bringing down Jet."

She giggled, and when she spoke, there was a purr threading its way through her voice that made electric shocks run up and down his spine. "Well, that wasn't _everything_…"

He chuckled, feeling a bit flummoxed. _How __**does **__she keep doing that to me? _"Hey, I said _most of our time._"

She sighed, and nuzzled deeper. "Yeah…what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What was your first glimpse of the Earth Kingdom? Was it any better than mine?"

He sighed, casting a quick mental glare at the sadness that tried to creep up from the back of his mind. "Sadly, no. After I was escorted onto the troop ship, I spent most of my time alone, staring out of a porthole. I was quartered with junior officers like myself, of course, and they all pretty much knew who I was, especially the high-born ones. Even if they didn't know the whole story about what had happened, they'd heard enough rumors to be cautious. And, let's face it, the fact that half my face was covered in bandages didn't help."

"And I'm sure you were just the absolute _picture _of kind-hearted openness," she teased.

He had to laugh at that, because it was true. "Yeah…when I said I was staring out of that porthole, it might be better to call it _brooding like a grumpy teenager. _And I know that this will come as a _complete _shock to you, but because I was in such a nasty mood, anyone who _did _try to talk to me, I ended up barking at."

He felt her eyes go wide. "What, my Zuko, _bark at people? _Color me stunned."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." He gave her a kiss before continuing. "So, yeah, I sat there, brooded, pouted, really, and tried not to cry. It wasn't until we landed, and I ran into Toru, getting off the ship at the next pier over, that I finally snapped out of it."

"So, what _was _your first sight of the land you were being exiled to?"

"Honestly, it was so insignificant, and paled so much in comparison to my mood, that I don't even remember it."

"Would've cut into your brooding time?"

"Pretty much."

There was a pause, and then Katara said, "The Ninety-Fourth really saved you, didn't it?"

He could only nod. "It really did. Being in the Army, and in a unit like that…for the first time in my life, excepting when I was at the Academy, I had…I had _stability. _I knew exactly what I was expected to do, exactly when I was expected to do it, and exactly _how _I was supposed to do it. The only measure of success was how well I performed. Stay alive, do my job to the best of my abilities, exceed those abilities when possible…it's impossible to say how much I loved that, how much it meant for me."

This time, it was her who kissed him, Katara tilting back her head and pecking him on the cheek to do so. "I understand. Going off with Korra was a lot like that, for me. Back home…well…I was twenty, unwed, not pregnant, and not planning on changing that anytime soon. And I was the chief's only daughter, no less. We're not as…well…_unfair _to women in the South as our brethren are in the North, but still…it's…it was _claustrophobic. _I mean, I was widely considered the best waterbender in the land, I was smart, as well-read as possible, capable…but I was still a _woman. _But, out here, first alongside Korra, then alongside you…I'm more than that. I got the chance to _be _more than that."

"And here you are, married to a prince."

"Psh. You're banished, boy. _You're_ the one who's married to royalty."

"Heh…you've got me there."

She sighed. "I love you, Zuko."

He smiled. "I love you, too, Katara."

They stayed like that, for as long as possible, as the sun sank lower and lower, until Azula popped up from below and fetched them down for dinner.

* * *

I always like pointing out that, since Zuko's a banished, exiled prince, the person who's marrying up in any potential relationship between him and Katara is not Katara, but _him. _In the show, his constant references to her as a _dirty peasant _always felt like his attempts to not acknowledge that fact, at least to me.

But, as usual, I digress. Did everyone enjoy the glimpse of pouty Zuko, though? Because he was that; the Army saved him. The military isn't perfect, not by a long fucking shot (but we won't get into that, since this is neither the time nor the place, nor am I really qualified to expound upon the issue), but it's long been a good place for kids from rough backgrounds to go. It provides stability and order, often to people who didn't have much of that growing up, which is half the reason I considered joining for a time.

Why didn't I? Because, let's face it, I'd be a shit soldier, and because I'm blind as a bat without glasses, they weren't going to let me do anything cool. If I was going to deal with being in the military, I wanted to blow shit up, and when that wasn't in the cards, I passed.

Moving on! In the next chapter, I break my own heart, because I'm an asshole, even to myself. Stay tuned!


	61. KORRA III

KORRA

_AND NOW, _KORRA THOUGHT, SITTING ON HER NEW BED IN HER NEW ROOM, _COMES THE HARD PART._

The idea made her laugh, a hollow, empty sound, more a derisive snort than anything else. It was a lot like her new room, the room she had very quickly come to hate. Her old room had been homey, comfortable, _lived in. _That last was the best way she could describe it. _One could tell that people slept there._

This new one, though? _No one lives here. But that's who I have to become now, isn't it?_

_ No one…_

The words of the Avatars echoed in her ears. Those voices never left her now, were never far away. So much had changed while she was asleep, so much was different. She really was on the verge of being the Avatar now, one small, tiny step away. She had never felt so alive. She sensed everything, and everything lived and breathed and flowed through her. _But not quite._

_ I have one more step to go._

_ I have to give up everything._

_**Everything.**_

_To unlock the final chakra, to become one with the cosmic energy of existence, you must surrender your earthly attachments. _That's what they had told her, in that room that wasn't a room, that place that wasn't a place, where nothing made sense and everything was both more and less real than one could possibly imagine. _You must become more than human. You must attain a higher realm of being._

_ You must detach yourself from the world, so that you can become one with it._

And so, she had detached herself. Her last moment of humanity, her last shred of who and what she once was, had been in that moment after waking up, when she was just so happy to be back she had forgotten the promises she had made to her past lives. _To Raava._

_ But they remembered, didn't they? _She sighed, pulled her ponytail over her shoulder, began running her fingers through it. _When I closed my eyes that night, happy and warm in the company of my friends, they came to me, and reminded me of my vow._

_ Even Aang…_

She closed her eyes, and tried not to cry. _Even Aang…_

And thus it had been. When Katara had written, said she was going to take a quick flight up to the temple to see her, and from there go to meet the invasion fleet, she had written back, cold and callous, that that wasn't necessary, that she should stay where she was. When Sokka popped his head in, frowned as he watched her move her things out of her old room, she had ignored him. She no longer let Asami braid her hair, no longer practiced swordsmanship with Suki, no longer kicked her feet back-and-forth through the air as Lobsang told her funny stories.

_I no longer sleep in the same room as Toph._

Which was why she was sitting, and waiting, for Toph to come and ask her why. She didn't know what she was going to say. This was the hardest thing she had ever done, ever would do, she suspected. She imagined it all, every moment, every second, as if it was happening right in front of her, right now, this very moment. She saw Toph kick open the door, demanding to know what the hell was going on. She saw herself try to explain things, explain them without explaining, because the Avatars were watching, and she had to be careful.

Korra took off her shoes, pressed her bare feet to the floor. She closed her eyes, became one with the stone of the temple. She stretched out her consciousness, just as Toph had taught her to do. She saw so much. She saw Sokka, pacing, arguing with Lobsang. It felt like he was talking about her. She saw Asami and Sokka sitting in the room they shared, passing a cigarette back and forth. They felt unsure, slightly confused, worried. She saw…

_She saw…_

She didn't see Toph, because Toph never came.

She pulled back her feet, moved back into the bed, curling into the space where it met the corner of the wall. She curled herself up tight, into a kind of ball. She never opened her eyes. She couldn't bear to do so.

She had never felt so cold before, so cold, and so alone. It was like the months after the North, all over again, _only worse._

Because Toph was out there.

And Toph never came. Sokka did. He came, knocked gently on the door, asked if she was okay. She didn't answer, because she didn't want to lie to him. He sighed, tried a few more times, then walked away, muttering to someone who felt like Lobsang.

But not Toph.

She sighed, and bit her lip. It didn't matter, did it? Because, see, she was pretty sure she was going to die soon, that she was not going to survive what she had to do, the thing that should have been done a long time ago.

After all, she was the hero, wasn't she? And since when did heroes get happy endings? Sure, the stories made it _sound _like they got happy endings, but Korra knew better now.

In some ways, she suspected that she always had.

* * *

That hurt. Like, _really hurt. _This was one of those chapters that made me hate myself. Must've taken a whole day to write nine-hundred words. _Blergh._

What's Korra going to do? Well, you should read on, shouldn't you?

Moving on! In the next chapter, which comes tomorrow, Iroh goes over his options. Stay tuned!


	62. THE FIRE LORD II

THE FIRE LORD

IROH LOOKED AT THE MEN CLUSTERED AROUND THE TABLE, AND TRIED NOT TO SIGH. The room was a sea of scarlet-and-black-and-gold, generals standing to attention, junior officers and clerks and runners bustling around at the edges, popping into the room and back out again. Just beyond this room was a bigger one, and he could hear the faint murmur of soldiers at work like a rumbling sea. He felt like he was in the bottom of a deep well, the open sky little more than a pinprick, freedom nothing more than a distant memory.

The Fire Lord's crown on his head felt heavy, heavier than anything he had ever known. The last time he had worn a uniform in this land, he had worn only the Crown Prince's headpiece, a simple gold flame wrought onto a simple band, set in a simple topknot. Then, he had felt that simple little thing to be a burden, representative of a title that was always getting in his way.

Now, he hungered for that simple little whorl of gold. Everything was so much easier, then.

He frowned. _Banish all such thoughts from your mind, old man. The weight of history is upon you. The eyes of your ancestors are upon you._

_ Do not let them down._

_ Do not think about whether or not they should be._

"General Ikeda," he said, focusing his gaze on a tall, broad-shouldered man in late middle-age, standing straight and proud, the _Kinshi Kunto, _First Class, hanging from his neck, "what is your recommendation?"

General Ikeda clicked his heels and bowed. "Your Majesty." He rose, reached out his hand, waving it in a circle over the southeastern coast. "In my opinion, this is the single greatest immediate threat. The Southern Water Tribes are landing in force, from here, to here, and preliminary reports indicate that their warships, in conjunction with traitorous elements of the Southern Fleet, are wreaking havoc upon our lines of supply and communication back home. If we face this threat, press them hard before they are fully ready and organized, we can force their fleet to disengage and come to their aid, maybe even force them to withdraw." He pulled his hand back, and rendered another bow. "We must have a secure base of operations, if we are to effectively deal with the rest of the situation."

Iroh nodded, tugging at the tip of his beard. "An excellent point…however, if you remember, the Southern Water Tribes do not need to be organized to wreak havoc. They are well-versed in small, irregular operations; it is their way. They will not risk open battle, even if they are organized into a single army, and we will expend resources we do not have trying to defeat them." He paused, turned to another general, a short, round-faced and round-bodied man, whose belly strained at his uniform. "General Hatoyama, your turn."

General Hatoyama clicked his heels and bowed. "Your Majesty, I agree with General Ikeda, but also with you. I feel that the best course of action is containment of the Southern threat, while also securing the southern provinces. Whatever we do, we _must _hold Omashu, against threats from within or without. Thus, my suggestion is re-embarking some troops and moving against Patola. The base there has mutinied, and those ships and the Air Nomads at the Southern Air Temple are a dagger leveled at our throats."

"Hmm…General Ohira?"

"Your Majesty." Another click of the heels, another bow. "I believe that we must take the offensive as soon as possible. The mutiny seems stillborn here in the south, but I don't like the reports we're receiving from the central region. If we lose Ba Sing Se, it doesn't matter how brilliant of a campaign we conduct here; the government will lose so much legitimacy that even those who remain loyal will lose heart. Thus, I propose an immediate march on Ba Sing Se."

Iroh kept nodding, pursing his lips, still tugging at the tip of his beard. He tried to remember the last time he had smoked a pipe, and found that he couldn't recall. _Sometime before I left the Homeland, that's for sure. _He heaved a mental sigh. _Oh well. At least the tea is…ahem…__**tolerable. **_"And there is the matter of the Avatar's challenge…"

All the generals frowned, but it was Ikeda who spoke up. _As I expected; there's a reason I chose him as my second-in-command. Others were better born, higher ranking, but one doesn't rise from the gutter to the generalship without a bit of daring. _"Your Grace…?"

He chuckled, leaning back from the map spread over the table. "Ah, I neglected to mention that. My nephew, Colonel Matsuura, was informed by the Avatar – under rather interesting circumstances, I'll tell you all later, no doubt – that she wished to face me, and only me, at the spot where I broke the Second Wall of Ba Sing Se, and thus supposedly _won_ the War." He looked up at his generals, and smiled. "What do you all think of that?"

They all looked incredulous, some verging on dumbstruck, but, of course, it was Ikeda who said something. "That's…ridiculous, Your Majesty. What is this, the time of the _samurai? _Should we go back to settling differences by way of duels between selected champions?"

Iroh shrugged. "It's not a bad idea; it'd certainly be much more efficient."

Ikeda frowned. "Surely you're not really considering this…"

Iroh raised his hand. "Have no fear, General. I hope that things shall not come to that. In fact…" He frowned, turned to find a young, fresh-faced lieutenant, who looked very apologetic and quite intimidated by his surroundings. _Can't say I blame him. _"Yes, Lieutenant?"

The boy bowed, far too low, Iroh felt. _I'm going to have to issue an order about all this bowing; it's getting tiresome, and we have work to do. _"Apologies, Your Majesty, but this just arrived from Ba Sing Se by messenger hawk, direct from Chancellor Feng. I felt you should see it immediately."

Iroh sighed. "Very well, give it to me." He took it, and began to read.

He immediately began to wish he hadn't.

"Your Majesty?" General Ikeda asked. "What is it?"

"Probably that viper Long Feng trying to extort more power and privileges," General Ishibashi observed, looking, as usual, like he had just bitten into something decidedly unpleasant. "What else would that little toad want?"

Iroh shook his head. "I'm afraid it's not that." He balled up the letter, and burned it in the palm of his hand. "Gentlemen, I'm afraid the decision has been made for us. Omashu and the south must fend for themselves. We march on Ba Sing Se as soon as possible."

A startled murmur rippled through the mass of scarlet-and-black-and-gold braid.

"Your Majesty?" General Ikeda asked. "What happened?"

Iroh closed his eyes, and turned to leave the room. He had no time for discussion; the crisis was well and truly at hand, and that was all there was to it.

"Revolution," he said over his shoulder as he went to where his staff waited to begin writing his orders out. "The end of an era."

_Gods, _he thought, as his shoulders slumped in resignation, _why have you forsaken me?_

_ Ancestors, where have you gone?_

As usual, no one answered.

* * *

I think my reaction to the road Korra is walking down is summed up best by storyoftheunknownfangirl: "..." At least, that's what the e-mail with your review said. Either way, I couldn't have put it better myself.

Though, when it's all over, it'll all make sense. I promise you.

The climax is at hand, ladies and gentlemen. Buckle up; it's going to be pretty bumpy and wild from here on out. There won't be much stopping for a bit.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we pop up to Ba Sing Se for a bit, where the girls, they are so pretty. Stay tuned!


	63. JIN II

JIN

SHE FOUND HARU DOWN IN THE CELLAR, WITH THE REST OF HIS MEN. Up above, on the streets of the world's greatest city, _Miyako be damned, _as far as Jin was concerned, everything was calm, peaceful, quiet. People went about their business, children laughed and stray dogs barked and merchants were getting ready to open their shops. Spring had truly arrived, driving away the brutal winter, preparing to usher in the equally brutal summer that everyone knew was just around the corner. Birds sang and trees covered in infant leaves and budding blossoms whispered as cool breezes made their limbs dance. The sun was still just a purple smudge, a hint on the horizon, and there was not, as far as Jin had been able to see, a single cloud lurking anywhere in sight to mar the coming dawn.

Down below, though, in basements and cellars and sewers, in a thousand-thousand places just like the one Jin was now descending into, it was a very different story. Here, men and women and boys hustled and bustled. The air was filled with muttered curses and the sounds of blades being drawn and polished, spears rattling as they were plucked from racks, strings _twanging _as they were stretched over bows. Armor creaked, prayers were whispered, talismans were clutched. At the edges of her vision, she could see priests filtering through the crowds, people bowing to accept their blessings. Off in one corner, candles and incense sticks burned, and people knelt and clasped their hands and begged their ancestors to watch over them, prayed that they would not disgrace their memories.

She looked at the jumbled mass of foreheads, saw the crescents of mud streaked across countless brows. Her own forehead tingled, the mark her mother had applied, just that morning, feeling hot and heavy on her skin.

_This is the day, _she thought, a predatory grin creasing her face. _This is the day that the people of earth rise up and take back their city. This is the day we take back our dignity and our pride. No more will we fear the day we must stand before our ancestors and account for our actions. No more will we cower before traitors and occupiers._

_ No more will we be prisoners in our own land._

_ No more._

She saw Haru before he saw her, sliding up beside him and smiling up at him as he tightened a greave to his left forearm. She bit down on her nerves, and found herself amused that she was more apprehensive about talking to a silly _boy _than she was about the fact that, within the next hour or so, she would be charging down the streets, meeting only the gods knew what fate.

Not that she would ever admit it. She had her pride, after all.

"Hello, Lieutenant!"

Haru jumped, startled, before he rounded on her, surprise giving away to a bashful smile. "Why, hello, my lady," he replied, bowing low. "I was hoping I would see you before the show kicked off."

She reached up to tuck some stray hair back behind her ear, and tried to ignore the way her giggle sounded. "Well," she said, returning his bow, "then it seems that today is your lucky day."

He chuckled, and she felt a twinge of regret that it was too dark down in this place to see if he was blushing. "A most auspicious omen, I think. I stand here, hoping that I'll see you, and here you are. Victory cannot help but be far behind."

She fought an urge to roll her eyes. _You're lucky you're cute, boy, with lines like that. _"One can only hope, Lieutenant."

He bowed his head. "Please, call me Haru."

"In that case," she replied, jutting out her chin, "you must stop calling me _my lady, _especially since I am anything _but _noble-born, and start calling me Jin."

He laughed. "As you command…_Jin._" The smile faded, and was replaced with a worried frown. "Are you sure there's no way I can convince you to stay out of this?"

She rolled her eyes. _Men; always thinking that they're the only ones allowed to have fun. _"Need I remind you that this is _my city, _Haru. If you think I'm going to sit on the sidelines while you and yours fight the battle I've waited for all my life, well…you've got another thing coming." She spread her arms, gesturing at all the other women scattered about. "We're not missing this, none of us are. Today, the people are going to sing." She lowered her hands, crossed her arms. _"All of us."_

He gave a heavy sigh, and bowed his head. "Of course." He flashed her a very curious smile. "You can't fault me for trying, though."

She nodded. "No, I can't. Plus, it was cute."

His face lit up. "Really?"

She popped up and pecked him on the cheek. "More or less. Now," she continued, reaching down to grasp the hilt of her _jian, _"if you'll excuse me, I still have a few more errands to run."

He nodded. "Of course. You're really sure that the Fire Nation troops won't stand in our way?"

She grinned, turning around, answering his question over her shoulder. "That's what they've told us. They're not going to fight alongside us, but they won't fight against us, either. So long as we don't start some kind of massacre, and let them go home when the time comes, they won't impede us."

"I wouldn't mind if they fought with us," he observed.

She shook her head, and turned her gaze forward. "I would. This is _our _city, _our _day, _our _battle to fight. They have their own wars to wage, after all."

_And we_, she thought, as she left the cellar and went to her assigned position, _have ours. It was the people of the earth who lost their city._

_ Only we can take it back._

* * *

Full disclosure: I'm a big fan of _Les Miserables. Can You Hear the People Sing? _is one of my favorite numbers of all times.

More full disclosure: First time I saw the most recent movie, I was alone, on Christmas day, because life can be mean sometimes. I walked through the middle of a snow storm to see the movie because I was bored and sick of dealing with my step-dad. Then, I cried like a baby when Anne Hathaway rocked _I Dreamed a Dream. _Which was fortunate, because a week later, I went and saw it with my future wife and her sister. They cried, but I was prepared, and was able to play it cool.

But I digress. Point is, women have always been part of popular movements and revolutions, and have never hesitated to stand and fight for what was theirs. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. For an East Asian equivalent, look up the Tru'ng Sisters, twin Vietnamese sisters who led a popular revolution against the Han Dynasty around the time Jesus was walking around Palestine (or Israel; I don't want to trigger anyone here).

Moving on! In the next chapter, Long Feng hears the people sing. Stay tuned!


	64. THE CHANCELLOR II

Quick Edit: So, you guys just got notified of chapters posting that you probably already read. What ha-happened was *pats hair*...either I didn't have enough nicotine in my system this morning, and messed up, OR, the posting mechanism fucked up. Naturally, we're going to blame it on the thing that doesn't make it my fault. SO, point is, THIS chapter goes AFTER Jin's, and BEFORE Korra's.

Sorry! It's fixed now!

* * *

THE CHANCELLOR

THE SUN HAD BARELY BEGUN TO RISE ABOVE THE HORIZON, BUT LONG FENG WAS ALREADY HARD AT WORK. He was in his spare, utilitarian office, bent over his desk, nose buried in paperwork, when he heard it. He frowned, looked up, towards the open window. It was beautiful outside, calm and cool and fresh, the winter a memory, the summer far away. He pushed back from his desk, stood, set down his pen, cracked his back as he walked towards the window. He leaned out of it, tilted his head, perked his ears.

_Is that…can it be…_

_ Already?_

He sighed. It shouldn't have been, but it was. From far off, in the distant reaches of the Lower Ring, sounding as if it came from every quarter, every street, every block, all around him and his Palace, came an unmistakable sound.

_Singing. _He shook his head. _Those fools are __**singing.**_

_The day of reckoning is at hand._

He placed his hands on the windowsill, breathing deep the clean morning air. He looked out upon his city, feeling as if he had but to narrow his eyes and focus his gaze to make out the slum from which he had come. _So far…all the way from there, to here…_

_ They'll never understand, will they? _He closed his eyes, let his shoulders sink, not in despair, but in resignation. _They never did, and they never would. It was all over, and that fool Kuei was going to tear this city apart, brick-by-brick, in his determination to never submit. Every day the rivers of fire and scarlet and black came closer, every day their banners inched forward. Our armies were shattered, our people fleeing in droves. And still, the generals wanted to fight. Those fools…them and Kuei…the greatest fool of all…_

He had fought the Fire Nation as long as he could, he really had. But Long Feng had not risen from the gutter without being able to know when he was beaten. So, he had acted, and saved his city from ruin, worked every day ever since to continue saving it. Was that not his duty, his job?

He shook his head, maybe, he reflected, he had never _stopped _shaking his head.

_The fools…they never understood, and never will. I saved them all from an Emperor's foolish pride, and for that, they sing, and would tear me limb-from-limb if they got the chance._

Not, of course, that he was going to let them. He and Kuvira had made their plans and preparations, quite some time ago.

There came a knock at the door. Without opening his eyes, he said, "Come in." He sensed the young man enter, listened to the sword jangle at the boy's hip. "Which one are you?"

He felt the boy bow. "Agent Xiahou Jie, sir. Commander Cheng sent me."

He nodded. "Ah, Kuvira, my right-hand. What does she have to say?"

He felt another bow. "That the day we have been expecting seems to have arrived. The entire Lower Ring appears to be in the streets, singing. They look rather well-armed and well-organized as well."

"I see. And what of our red-clad friends?"

"We can't be sure yet. They're coming out of their barracks, but…"

He scoffed. "Let me guess: They're not being very quick about it."

"No, sir."

"Hmm…and has Commander Cheng put our plan into action?"

"Of course, sir. She just wanted to make sure you knew."

He nodded. "Good. Now, away with you. It's going to be a very busy day, and I'd like to have a few moments of peace before it begins."

"At once, sir." Young Agent Xiahou bowed, and departed, closing the door behind him.

Long Feng only gave himself another minute before he followed. It was, after all, a beautiful day, and for all that he called those people out there fools, he did have to admit that they seemed to have quite a lovely singing voice.

* * *

Long Feng always one of those characters one loves to hate. I always found it interesting that he didn't seem to consider himself a traitor, and, thus, this chapter is my attempt to peer into his brain and find out why he felt that way. Do I think he's a bastard and a total tool? Of course I do. But very rare is the person who's a villain in their own mental story. Jiro is an exception, the one that proves the rule.

Still, Long Feng is totally on his way to getting what's coming to him, though I doubt that he's one to shed a tear over that.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we pop back up to the NAT, and Korra finally becomes the Avatar. Stay tuned!


	65. KORRA IV

KORRA

TO THE SOUTHEAST OF THE NORTHERN AIR TEMPLE, ARE MOUNTAINS. These mountains are high, and there are many of them. For millennia, these mountains have been beyond the reach of any worldly power. The Air Nomads wandered these mountains, making homes, building little villages and tiny temples, along with scattered, semi-nomadic tribes that could only be called _citizens of the Earth Kingdom _by using the loosest possible definition of the term. Since the Fall, these mountains had been the home of rebels, interlaced with vast networks of tunnels and secret camps. Rebels would strike out from these hidden fortresses, and the armies of the people of fire would strike back, though what was actually accomplished by either side, no one could really say.

It was on one of these mountains, the highest one she could find after only an hour of flying, Korra sat, and prepared to say goodbye to herself.

She had come here alone. Lobsang hadn't wanted to let her, but he had been unable to stop her. _I am the Avatar now, _she had said, _and I have one final chakra to unlock._

She did her best to block out the sadness that had filled his eyes, pushed away the memory of how, when she had prepared to leave, Sokka had seen her, and called to her. He was with Toph, and he had been waving, and telling Toph to join him.

Toph, though, hadn't looked up. She had said something, something Korra couldn't hear, and then Sokka's face changed, and his eyes…

_They were too much like Katara's…_

No, she pushed all of that away. She had to focus. She had come here for one thing, and one thing only. She was afraid, but not of it being hard.

She was frightened of it being easy.

She sat, legs crossed, eyes closed, just as Lobsang had taught her, the glider staff that she had used to get here propped against a nearby rock. She closed her eyes. She breathed in. She breathed out. In. Out.

_In…_

_ Out…_

_ In…_

_ …_

_ Out…_

_ …_

The images came. Each one floated up before her, and she looked at each one, looked at it long and hard. And then…

_She let it fall away…_

She saw her parents, her father sharpening his hunting spear, her mother stirring the pot, preparing the night's meal. She saw Katara, felt her heart swell with pride when the young woman, _the chief's daughter who was everything Korra wanted to be, _told her that she was going to teach Korra everything she needed to know about waterbending. She laughed at the first stupid joke Sokka had ever told her. She saw…

_She saw…_

_ A prince with half a face, who only wanted to be normal, and married the girl of his dreams…_

_ A princess with beautiful hair in a sloppy bun, who no longer looked her firebending student in the eye, but didn't seem to be aware of it…_

_ A warrior, hair longer every day, who had given up everything for the chance to do the right thing, even though all she wanted was to go back home, to her island…_

_ A merchant's daughter, who trained like a demon every day, even though she knew it would never wash her friend's blood from her hands..._

_ A noblewoman from a land of fire, tall, proud, with a heart so big it had no room for herself…_

_ A kindly old former monk, with an eternal smile and not a mean bone in his body…_

_ A young woman with the heart of a girl and a special, beautiful smile, who never cursed, who could stand on her hands and clap her feet together, who did cartwheels in full armor just because she felt like it, and who died, because of…_

_ Because of…_

_ Because of…_

Korra let it fall. It crumbled and floated away with the wind. All of it.

_Everything…_

Every failure, every mistake, every triumph, every victory. She cast it all aside. Away went the only mother she had ever wanted, the mother of her heart, the mother of her soul. That one was hard, though…

_Not as hard as it should have been…_

_ And then…_

_ A blind girl, with eyes of milky green, her hair a mess, and dirt beneath her nails that never seemed to go away. She was small and petite and beautiful, with the mouth of a drunken sailor who has just stubbed his toe and a mastery over her element the likes of which the world has never even __**imagined. **__A blind girl, all of eighteen-years-old now, who had lost everything…_

_ Everything…_

_**Everything…**_

She let it all fall away.

She opened her eyes. The world had turned blue. She was no longer sure of where she was, of where she had been, of how long she had been there.

_But I know where I'm going._

_ I know what I have to do._

_ And this is the final hurdle I have to leap, to start down that road._

Aang was before her, sitting just like her, just like the kind-hearted monk he always should've been. He wasn't smiling. He looked very, very sad, like the oldest little boy she had ever seen.

She couldn't blame him. After all, she wasn't smiling, either.

"You don't have to do this," he said.

She shook her head. "Yes, I do. You know I do."

"You…you don't have to become like them."

"But, you see, I do. I have to become the Avatar."

He hung his head, as if he was trying to hide his shame. "But…I never wanted you to become the Avatar, not like this…I thought…" He sniffed, and somehow, she knew he was crying. "I thought…_I thought we were going to change things…"_

She smiled, why, she didn't know. Maybe it was because…

_This may be the last time I ever smile…_

"We are, Aang."

He looked up, hope blossoming in his eyes. "You…you mean…"

She nodded. "I do. But I have to do this first."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping under a weight she knew all too well. "You won't like what you become…"

"Neither wholly human, nor wholly spirit," she recited, from what, she couldn't recall, "but, rather, a combination of the two, something else entirely, the most powerful being on the planet."

He nodded. "Yes, that's…that's exactly what you'll become…"

"A _thing," _she finished, as her smile died on her face, "but not a _person. _Never a _person._"

"Avatars can't afford to be something as mundane and fallible as a _person._"

"And that," she said, closing her eyes once more, "is the problem." She took her final breath, and let it out. "I'm ready. You know what you have to do."

He sighed, and it sounded to her like the end of the world. "Yes, I do." Because, as the other Avatars had told her, when they explained what they expected her to do, were they to allow her to remain the Avatar, one of primary duties of one's most recent incarnation was to unlock the seventh _chakra. _This could only be done after an Avatar had surrendered all earthly attachments; only then, could an Avatar be opened to the pure cosmic energy of existence.

_Only then, can I be the Avatar._

_ And only as the Avatar, can I do what I have to do._

_ Even if it kills me…_

Aang raised his hand, and something shifted within her. It only burned for a second, and then…_and then…_

It was done.

That morning, Korra, of the Southern Water Tribes, left the Northern Air Temple and headed off into the mountains.

That evening, only the Avatar returned.

* * *

And thus, Avatar Korra is revealed.

One of my biggest fears here is that I'm _Ron the Death Eater-ing _the institution of the Avatar. I hope I'm not, because I always try to avoid that. What I'm trying to do, is take everything we were told about being the Avatar and running with it to its logical conclusion. As with many things, the logical conclusion is rarely pretty.

And thus, my problem with the idea of an Avatar. But more on that later...

Moving on! In the next chapter, if you don't hate me yet, you will. Stay tuned!


	66. TOPH IV

TOPH

SHE WAITED ALL DAY FOR KORRA TO RETURN. She wasn't sure why, but she did. In the end, Toph supposed that she needed to see it for herself, in the way that only she was capable of doing.

So, she sat, feet dangling off a balcony, and waited, as the sun crawled across the sky.

The sun was sinking below the horizon when she sensed her, felt her coming. How this came to be, even Toph couldn't say, and she never would, not to anybody but Korra. If Korra had come back, Toph probably would've told her.

Only…_Korra didn't come back. _Something…something _else _came back from the mountains. Toph knew this, because, see, even after the awkwardness, the weirdness, the way Toph had been avoiding her since Korra moved her things out, Korra would've seen her. Korra would've shouted and waved (_because she always waved, no matter how much Toph mocked her for it_), and run over and hugged her, probably for a bit too long, considering their most recent interactions.

_Or lack thereof..._

At the very least, Korra would've _noticed her. _

But not the Avatar. The Avatar landed on the balcony, the very balcony Toph was on, and walked off without so much as a single word.

Toph didn't cry. Really, she didn't.

She'd knock the teeth from anyone who said otherwise.

* * *

There's a piece of fanart I saw, that I think sums everything up perfectly. You can find it on the page of numina-namine, on DeviantArt, under the title, "At the End of Our World." Feel free to check it out; it's not a spoiler for this story at all.

Trust me, my ending will be _waaaay _more fucked up. :-D

Well, that's all for today! Wife's about to head off for work, and I've got to go get the car inspected and adult for a few hours.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we haul our asses back to Ba Sing Se. Stay tuned!


	67. THE HOMESICK BOY I

THE HOMESICK BOY

THAT NIGHT, CORPORAL KOIZUMI TETSU HAD DREAMED OF HOME. In the dream, he was only a boy, maybe thirteen, maybe fourteen, it was unclear, and even in the dream, it didn't seem important. What was important was that he was a kid again, thin as a stick, all knees and elbows and a smile that never seemed to end. He had never heard of militaries or armies or wars, or anything like that. What he knew of _The War _came only from books in school, filtered through the mind of a child who came from a good family and had never known a reason to be sad. He ran through the streets of his little village, the village he had yet to leave for more than a day. It was the last night of the Fire Festival, the last night of the week-long celebration to mark the Summer Solstice. The shortest night of the year, and, in the Fire Nation, the brightest. Koizumi ran and ran, spinning around, laughing and whooping and hollering, screaming with delight as the sky filled with fire. All of his friends were there, every single one, Higashikuni and Mitsumasa and Kijuro and Inukai and his cousin, Wakatsuki, who was the same age as him, so they pretty much grew up together. It had been one the best nights of his life, the night he'd finally beaten Kijuro at wrestling, and managed to steal a kiss from Ayako-chan, and…and…

_I never wanted it to end, either then, or in the dream…_

The dream was over now. In its place, was chaos. He staggering out of his barracks, joining a flood of scarlet-and-black that seemed to be just as confused and lost as he was. Everyone was shouting, screaming, the air seemingly alive with barked orders and bellowed curses and the rattle and clank of armor and weapons. He ran past a line of firebenders, performing gathering forms, preparing themselves for battle. A roar went up, and then another, and the air was filled with the thick smell of exhaust as tanks growled to life. Another soldier bowled into Koizumi, someone he didn't recognize, and he nearly dropped his helmet, cursing as it bounced from one hand's fingertips to the other's. He skidded to a stop, finally got a good hold on the thing, slid it onto his head.

The noise died down a little bit, but the confusion still reined. He frowned.

_The hell is going on? I thought…_

_ I thought we were going to sit it out…_

Someone shoved a _yari _into his hands. Not knowing what else to do, he took it, fell back on the discipline that three years in the Army and the drill instructors' half-remembered blows had drilled into him. He shouldered his spear, hurried forward, slotted into his place in the ranks. He looked left, looked right, backwards, forwards. He glimpsed a knot of junior officers, who had their heads together, occasionally looking over their shoulders. Their knuckles went white as they grasped the hilts of their _katanas, _and a chill settled into his bones as he realized that they were as confused as he was.

"Psst. Hey, Tetsu, the fuck is going on?"

Koizumi leaned over to his left, to his cousin, Wakatsuki, the only friend he had left. _Higashikuni got sick during Basic, died before they could send him home. Mitusumasa got thrown into the Navy, never came back from the North. Kijuro snapped five months into our tour, got taken away by men in white coats after he tried to slash his wrists open. Inukai…_

He sighed. _Inukai died in my arms, half his body crushed by a boulder the size of my parents' house…_

"I don't know," he whispered back. "I really don't…"

"Weren't we supposed to just make a big show, let things play out in the City?"

Koizumi shrugged. "That's what Captain Kinmochi told us…at least, that's what I _thought _he told us…"

_He promised we were going home, _he remembered. _He promised that no more of us would have to die._

Beside him, Wakatsuki began to stir. "Wait…is that…?"

Koizumi looked up, and saw what his cousin had noticed. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach. "Yeah, it is. General Aritomo."

And sure enough, there he was, large as life and angry as a komodo-rhino in heat. General Aritomo, the commander of all the troops stationed in the forts that ringed the southern approaches of Ba Sing Se. He glowered down at them all, red in the face, trembling from rage. If smoke had started pouring from his ears, Koizumi would not have been surprised.

Koizumi felt his body grow cold. _We're going to have to go in, aren't we? Because the General is here, and who will go against the General? _His eyes fell to the ground. _There's nothing we can do. He's going to send us in, and it's going to be a massacre…_

_ A complete and utter massacre…_

_ Can't I just go home?_

Suddenly, everything went quiet, still. It was as if someone had blown out the candle that supplied the world with sound. Koizumi looked up, watched, speechless, as the General looked down, down at the _yari _blade that had just pierced him from the back. Blood began to pour, and the General blinked a few more times, opened his mouth to speak, and slid from the saddle.

It was hard not to laugh at the sound the General made as he hit the ground. Koizumi would always feel a little evil for that.

Then the Colonel was there, stepping forward. "Gentlemen," he bellowed, "sorry about the confusion. I know you were all looking forward to a quiet morning, but we weren't expecting the General to appear like that. He was supposed to be…shall we say…_taken care of. _Now, I know you're all confused, and a bit shocked, but, before you do anything, think about this: The first step home is for us to stay, right here, and not lift a finger. Anyone have a problem with that?"

No one did, so no one said a word.

Koizumi certainly wasn't.

It was only in the silence that fell, as the Colonel waited for anyone to speak their mind to the contrary, that the homesick Corporal realized that somewhere, to the north, where the City lay, people were…

_Huh…_

_ Is that…_

_ Singing…?_

He shook his head, chuckling at his folly as the Colonel dismissed them and ordered them back to their barracks. _Nah. That would be crazy._

He frowned. _Right…?_

* * *

Some units in the Fire Nation's military are going to outright mutiny. I imagine it was more common in the northern areas, where, for whatever reason, the mutiniers worked their magic the hardest (I imagine that it had a lot to do with the angry Northern Fleet wandering around, bruised from Zhao's madness and the recent purges we glimpsed in Book Two). Most units, however, are like this one: They're sick and tired and ready to go home. They don't want to outright mutiny, but they're definitely going to stand down.

Which, if you think about it, is almost more dangerous to the _powers that be. _

So, real quick, for those playing the home game, the craziness with the chapters yesterday...I have no idea what happened. I'm sure it was my fault somehow, but we're going to go ahead and blame it on how the posting mechanism of this site gets really weird sometimes. Important this is, it's fixed now. Woo!

Moving on! In the next chapter, the people sing. Stay tuned!


	68. THE PEOPLE

THE PEOPLE

A LONG TIME AGO, IN THE DAYS OF THE FORTY-SEVENTH EMPEROR OF THE EARTH, EMPEROR HONGWU, THE DEATH OF CHIN THE CONQUEROR AT THE HANDS OF AVATAR KYOSHI HAD LEFT THE LAND IN CHAOS. The people, seeing their chance, had risen up, in what became known as the Great Peasant Revolt. They had stormed the Lower Ring of the city, but could go no further, because the Middle Ring lay behind a massive wall, and it was held firmly against them. Then, the Avatar had come, formed and trained the Dai Li, and the revolt was put down. Later, they said that the river than snaked through the City ran red with blood for a month.

But this time, there were no walls to stop the people. When the Fall came, then-Crown Prince Iroh had torn down all the Great Walls of Ba Sing Se, as well as the walls that protected the Lower and Middle Rings. Only the Inner Wall remained. And there was no Imperial Army this time, was there? There were only exhausted soldiers in scarlet-and-black, who wanted only to go home, and local levies who were never that steadfast to begin with. So, all that the people had to do, was storm through the Lower and Middle Rings, and reach the Inner Wall before the hated Dai Li could close the gates.

And while they marched, while they ran through the city, they sang. They marched arm-in-arm, brandishing weapons they hoped not to have to use, their endless columns fringed with what looked from afar to be a solid carpet of flags. Not any flag, either; no, they waved the flags of the peasants in that long ago rebellion. They marched, not to restore the Emperors, who had ruled from on high like gods and let their great nation rot from the inside-out. They cared not for Jade Thrones, and they would be damned if they would ever press their foreheads to the ground again. After all, what had it gotten them? The Emperors were supposed to be gods, but instead, they had only been men, and weak men at that.

Thus, they forgot about Emperors and gods and Avatars, and marched only for themselves.

And as they marched, they sang. Over and over again, they sang the same song, the song that had been banned by the Fire Lords, and by the Emperors before them. They sang of angry men, of people who never, _ever, _be slaves again.

They lifted their voices to the heavens, and demanded to know if those men sitting on their high hill, so far away, could hear the people sing.

They almost made it, too.

* * *

Nothing gets my liberal bleeding heart beating fast quite like a popular revolt. When the people stand strong and stand together, and don't let petty bullshit get in their way, they can accomplish great things. Sure, sometimes it turns out like Syria, or Libya, or Northern Ireland, but other times, it turns out like Tunisia, which is now, in some weird ways, more tolerant and democratic than the US. So, you know, think about that.

Also, the bit about Avatar Kyoshi forming the Dai Li in response to a peasant revolt is from the online content that filled in the space between Book Two and Book Three. I doubt it's still out there, but there's a detailed synopsis on the Avatar Wiki (an incredibly useful resource). Look it over, and see if it doesn't make you feel distinctly uncomfortable, in how Avatar Kyoshi formed the Dai Li, left the Emperor on his throne, and you just know that the Emperor wasn't all hugs and kisses when she blew out of town.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Kuvira is...well..._Kuvira. _Stay tuned!


	69. THE COMMANDER I

THE COMMANDER

"COMMANDER CHENG!"

Kuvira bristled at the sound of her name. Rage flooded her veins, rage she just barely bit down, wrestled to the ground, gained control over. _Mustn't lost control. Must keep calm. Ignore the chaos, ignore the disorder, ignore that gods-awful, never-ending __**singing.**_

Everything around her was chaos. The entire Dai Li was out in force, and it seemed as if every single gods-damn agent was bustling about her at that moment, running to-and-fro, looking terrified. She hated it. If there was anything that Kuvira hated, _and she hated many things, _but, most of all, she hated _chaos. _All her life, she had fought chaos. Chaos, she knew, had learned long before, came from weakness. People, as any idiot could see, were weak, and when their leaders were also weak, there was chaos. How else to explain why the Fire Nation was crumbling before her very eyes? The current Fire Lord, for all of his wartime achievements, was _weak. _He could barely rule his own family, much less an empire, and now the chaos had spread, the weakness, like a cancer, _a virus, _filtering into everything, tearing apart all that it touched.

_Except for me. Except for __**us.**_

_It will not spread here._

_ Not so long as I draw breath._

"What?" she barked, not bothering to look at the officer who was talking to her. She knew his name, knew _all _their names, but she didn't think him worth the effort of her pulling it from her memory. If he _was _worth the effort, he wouldn't be trembling like a leaf right now.

"Commander, I apologize for the delay, but…I sent a man over to the nearest Fire Nation unit, to beg them to come out and help us."

She felt an eyebrow pop up. She was standing before a gate, the last gate left open in the Inner Wall. Behind her, she knew that the Chancellor was issuing orders, taking care of anything she hadn't gotten around to yet. Before her, down the street, down the hill, her Dai Li battled. The singing was threaded through with screams, and the earth trembled beneath her feet. _Oh, if only I was not the Commander. Then, I could be __**there, **__and show these __**little people **__what strength looks like. _She sighed. _Duty…duty and responsibility…_

_ And someday, __**power.**_

_And on that day, the Earth Kingdom will know what order looks like._

"Did you now?" she asked, not particularly interested. "I'm pretty sure I gave orders to not bother with such things."

She almost smiled when she heard the man gulp. She didn't, though; she was too focused to smile. _Maybe later. _

"Well…um…it's just…we can't hold this gate open on our own."

"Of course not. That's why we're not going to try."

"…pardon, Commander?"

She rolled her eyes to the heavens. "You heard me, Agent. When I give the order, we seal the gate, just like we've sealed all the other gates."

"But…Commander…how will we be able to get back out?"

She scoffed; she couldn't help it. "You really think that the Dai Li is reliant on something as petty as _gates?"_

She felt him wilt, and enjoyed the sensation. "Oh…apologies, Commander…still…"

She shrugged, her eyes still intent on the battle down the street. "Out of curiosity, what did the commander of this unit have to say?"

"Well…apparently, the Colonel commanding the unit is…well…he seems to be incapacitated. My man was met by some…_Major_, I believe, and he said…well…um…"

"Spit it out, Agent."

"Ah…well…he said, and I'm paraphrasing here, but he made it clear that he would prefer that we…um…perform physically impossible acts upon our mothers…"

Kuvira chuckled. She spoke Nihongo perfectly, and knew soldiers well; she had a pretty clear picture of what this particular _Major _had said. "Heh…cute. Still, that was a waste of time." _Just like this. _She looked up at the sky, up towards the sun, hanging high and bright from the pale blue bowl. _That's long enough; time to end this farce. _"Well, since _that's _settled, I think it's time to draw the curtain on this. Send word to the Agents holding the line down the street, tell them that, if I was them, I'd start running, very, very fast. Then, in fifteen minutes, close and seal the gate. Understood?"

The man paused, which caused Kuvira to stop as she began to turn on her heel and walk back towards the Inner City. "Of…of course, Commander. I'll do my best."

She nodded. "Hmm…also, enact Action Plan Huiyi. Begin immediately."

She turned her head, slowly, carefully, to focus her eyes on the man who was still bothering her. He was turning pale, blanching at the mere thought of what she had ordered. "But…Commander…that involves leveling every building within a hundred feet of the Inner Wall…"

She popped up an eyebrow. "Your point…?"

"But…Commander…there are people in those buildings…"

She nodded. "Hmm…true, there are…in fact…" And with that, she waved her hand through the air. The hand executed a complex form, one that was of her own creation, and the man watched, terrified, as the stone gloves that covered his hands, that covered the hands of every Dai Li agent, took on a life of their own, locked around his neck, and very quickly, very efficiently, crushed the life from him.

She turned her back on him before his body hit the ground. "You," she said, snapping her fingers at the Agent who had spent the entire conversation hovering behind the shoulder of the previous on.

The new man stepped forward, bowed. "Yes, Commander?"

"Are you this man's second-in-command?"

"Yes, Commander."

"You've just been promoted. Did you hear the orders I gave?"

"I did, Commander."

"Do you have a problem with them?"

"Why should I, Commander? This is, after all, the plan; it's not our fault that this _rabble _can't appreciate the consequences of their actions."

She nodded. "Excellent. Get to it."

The man bowed. "At once, Commander." And thus, it was done.

Later, they would say that one could hear the screams and cries and moans from the crushed homes and buildings as much as a hundred miles away, and that the sound within the now-secured Inner City was deafening. Not that Kuvira noticed, though.

To think on such things would be weakness, and Cheng Kuvira was anything but weak.

* * *

Kuvira never struck me as someone you would want to face in any kind of fight. She is, after all, the woman who, when her fiance was held as a hostage, decided to open fire anyways. The kind of Kuvira who grew up in wartime, rather than peacetime, would be even more distressing to face.

Moving on! In the next chapter, get a look at things from the people's eye view. Stay tuned!


	70. JIN III

JIN

THERE WAS NOTHING JIN LOVED MORE THAN A GOOD STORY. In many ways, she had grown up on them, though not the ones most girls enjoyed. Her friends had all swooned over stories like the Legend of Oma and Shu, or other tales of star-crossed lovers and doomed affairs, or anything that ended with the hero getting the girl. Jin, though, preferred a little action and excitement in her tales. Swash-buckling heroes, courageous bandits who robbed the rich and gave to the poor, rebels and peasants who challenged kings and lords and Emperors and won…

She had long since learned that life was not a song, but even then, right then, as night fell upon a city thick with tension and mourning, she couldn't help but feel that all of those stories, every single one, happy ending or no, had left out one critical detail.

In the legends, children never died.

She turned away from the crushed house, away from the tiny little hand peeking out from beneath the rubble. She turned and walked away, into the gloom, as darkness settled upon the city. _My city. Our city. No one else's. _She blinked away her tears, and walked away from the wall, the wall that their soldiers and smuggled-in rebels had assaulted all day, to no avail. They had won the city, but lost the battle. The Inner City, the Palace, the center of power and legitimacy, remained out of their grasp.

_Just like it always was…_

She walked along the streets, shoulders back, chin out, head held high. Her ramshackle uniform was battered and torn, and her face was covered in dirt and grime and dust, but she saw no reason why she should let that get her down. She walked down through the Middle Ring, into the Lower City, towards her home. She walked past soldiers camped out in alleys and gathered around makeshift little fires, past homes from which came the cries of the wounded, past human-shaped shrouds that lined the roads. She didn't look left, didn't look right, didn't look back. Only forward.

Always forward.

A few times, she passed soldiers dressed in scarlet-and-black, shouldering strange-looking spears, following officers with those fearsome long swords dangling from their hips. For the first time in her life, she didn't mind these foreign occupiers from far away. Why should she? They were no longer occupiers, only policemen, helping the people of the city keep the peace, maintain order, prepare for the long night to come.

Now, she was free to ignore them, and she did so.

_Now, _she thought, as she found herself walking down her street, saw her home rise up out of the night, _it's out of our hands._

_ Now, it's in the hands of the gods._

_ Now, _she realized, her shoulders slumping as she stumbled into her home, fell into her mother's arms, _it's up to the Avatar._

Only then, at that thought, did she begin to cry.

_Gods help us._

* * *

After the whole thing with Avatar Kyoshi, I can't imagine the common people of Ba Sing Se have a huge amount of faith in Avatars.

You know, one of my favorite parts of this project has been the mere fact that the third-person perspective and the sheer size of it have allowed me to give air-time to characters I never had time for before. I hope I've done them all justice so far, or, at the very least, used them in interesting ways.

Moving on! In the next chapter, everything's starting to get a bit..._disconnected..._for Jiro. I'm sure your hearts will break for him. *rolls eyes* Stay tuned!


	71. JIRO V

JIRO

EVERYWHERE HE WENT, JIRO SAW HIM. Or, more precisely, _didn't see him. _He was always hovering at the edges of Jiro's vision, an itch he couldn't scratch, a song whose words he couldn't recall, that _one important __**thing **_that he wasn't even sure he had forgotten. Jiro saw him out of the corner of his eye every time he looked in a mirror, saw his shadow flit across doorways just out of his sight, sensed his presence in the rise of the hairs on the back of his neck. He knew that this was impossible; after all, Jiro had struck the man's head from his shoulders himself. Of _course _he had.

…_right…?_

Through it all, he went about his duties. He had been in Miyako for a solid two weeks now. The news from outside went from bad to terrible, and then degraded from there, made all the worse because nothing was reliable, and nothing got to the Homeland on time. Ba Sing Se had fallen, hadn't fallen, had half fallen, was in flames, was not in flames, was all of the above, was none of the above. The entire fleet, every ship, had mutinied, half had mutinied, none had mutinied, had stayed loyal but it was the entire _Army _that had mutinied, or it was the other way around.

The Fire Lord was dead. The Fire Lord was in chains. The Fire Lord was triumphant. The Fire Lord was _about _to be triumphant. The exiled prince and the long-lost princess were dead, were alive, were on their way, were in hiding, were being hunted, were having their praises sung in every piss-ant peasant tavern. They had landed, not landed, were about to land, were marching to meet the Fire Lord himself.

The Avatar was alive.

The Avatar was dead.

The Avatar was both.

The Avatar was neither.

And through it all, everywhere Matsuura Jiro went, _he _followed. Everywhere…

_Everywhere…_

_ He was sure of it…he wasn't sure of it…_

_ He didn't know what to think…_

Jiro wasn't crazy, though; he knew that much. After all, would a crazy person be placed in command of Miyako's military preparations? Would a crazy person have passed muster before a man as astute as Imawano Kiyoshiro, the Lord Chancellor of the Privy Council, Fire Lord in all but name? Would a crazy person have been able to bow before the Lord Chancellor, say what he needed to say, have the Lord Chancellor nod and grunt and then agree to the Fire Lord's request for Jiro to prepare the capital and its surrounding districts for civil war? No, surely not; a crazy person would _never _be able to do, well, _any of that._

It was just that…well…_see…_

He was probably just tired, tired and stressed. His original plan was in shambles, and he was having to construct a new one from the ground-up. It involved a lot of work. He had to worm his way into the Royal Guard, butter up the commanders, make sure that, when the time came, they would follow him, and him alone. He had very carefully, very quietly, purged the officers of the local regular units, of the city watch, of the local militia, replaced those who disappeared with men of his own. He had investigated rebels and dissenters and rumors of the like without seeming to, since that was outside his brief.

He had to find a way to be alone with the Crown Prince. That was all he needed, the final piece. If he could only get his hands on his useless waste-of-space of a half-cousin, just for a few hours, or maybe one, _or even just ten minutes…_

_ If I can only do that…he's weak, everyone knows it, everyone sees it._

_ He's weak, and that's why I have to get my hands on him. He'll follow the strongest voice in the room, latch on to that guidance and never let it go._

_ Then, and only then, will the Fire Nation be my oyster._

_ Then, and only then, will I truly be on the road to being saved._

_ Still…it's just that…_

He looked up. He was in his office, pouring over papers, reading through reports. Everything was a shambles. Papers littered the ground, spilled from cubby holes, crammed drawers so full they wouldn't open. There were at least a half-dozen ashtrays scattered about, every single one of them over-flowing. His chin tickled. He couldn't remember the last time he had shaved. He couldn't. No time.

He looked around. He felt like a hunted animal. He went to the door, threw it open. A room full of clerks and officers looked back at him, confused. Most went back to work almost immediately, but one, his personal secretary, some Staff Sergeant whose name Jiro just couldn't seem to remember, stood, came up to him, bowed.

"Are you alright, Colonel?"

Jiro frowned. _Am I alright? Surely I am…tired…just…tired…_

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. _When did my topknot become undone? I don't…I don't remember that… _"I'm fine, just…I thought…has anyone been in my office today?"

The clerk shook his head. "No, sir. Not even me. Your orders were very clear; no one enters without your express permission, whether you're here or not."

Jiro nodded. "Right…are you sure? You haven't seen, say, a man, medium height, average build, plain face, could be either Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom, it's hard to tell…"

The clerk seemed to be struggling not to laugh. Jiro was sure of it. _Sure of it. _"Um…no, sir, not that I can think of. Though…that sounds like a lot of men, to be brutally honest."

Jiro had to struggle to keep his eyes from flying wide open with shock. "You're…you're right…you're absolutely…right…"

The clerk was leaning forward, and Jiro knew, _just knew, _that, behind the concern, was mockery. _You think I don't see you laughing at me, but I do. I see it._

_ I hear it._

_ Every…day…I…do…_

"Are you sure you're alright, Colonel? Would you like me to brew you some tea, or maybe send down to the mess for some food? I can have some nice hot _udon _here within a half-hour, fresh from the kitchens."

Jiro waved him off, turning back to his office. "No, I'm…it's fine. I'm just tired."

Behind him, he heard the clerk click his heels, sensed him bow, and knew, just _knew, _that the soldier was making faces at his back. _You think I can't see, but I can. __**I know. **_"Of course, sir. Just let me know if you need me."

Jiro nodded, more to himself than anyone else, but didn't say a word before he slammed the door and returned to his plots.

Though…just before he slammed that door…he could've sworn that he saw…just for an instant…ducking from behind one desk to another…

_Kojima…_

_ But…surely…_

Jiro shook his head. He was just tired. He wasn't crazy, though.

He knew that.

It was just…

He settled back into his chair, and lit yet another cigarette, heedless of the one that was still burning in one his ashtrays.

_I'm just tired. When I get my claws into that idiot of a Crown Prince, turn him into my mouthpiece, it'll all be better. Then, I will have the power I need to end this farce once and for all._

_ Then, I can rest…_

_ Then, I'll stop seeing Kojima…_

_ …right…?_

* * *

I told you Kojima wasn't done. Or is he? Is Jiro just going crazy, the strain of failure bringing forth the insanity that was always there, just under the surface? Or did Kojima work some kind spell? Is it magic, or is it mundane? Don't look at me; I'm not going to do all the work for you.

A couple of announcements! One, that's all for today. You might get an update tomorrow, might not. The wife and I are going to the wedding of a high school friend of mine's in Huntsville (_yes, I know, don't pick up any hitchhikers; my parents already told me that, **many times**_), so we'll see if I get the chance. I'll _definitely _be back on Monday, though.

Two, Book Three is almost finished! Not for you guys; you still have a ways to go. But _I'm _almost done with it. And, boy, am I happy with how it's turned out. I was nervous for a bit there, but I think you'll like it.

Three, you guys always support me, so I'm going to support you. Pretty much all the people you see reviewing, have their own work out there, sometimes on here (like _Girl with the Dragon Heart_), sometimes on AO3 (_like LadyKaelyn_of_Midgard), _and, from what I've seen, it's all good and worth R&amp;R-ing. So, get out there, support each other, give each other's stuff a look-see. Don't just read my stuff; ready everyone's!

And if any of you want to get my on TVTropes's FanFic Recommendation page for ATLA, well..._I won't complain._

_*looks cute*_

Moving on! In the next chapter, Suki and Sokka talk about Korra. Stay tuned!


	72. SUKI IV

SUKI

IT TOOK SOME TIME, BUT, EVENTUALLY, SUKI FOUND SOKKA. The reason for the delay was because the temple, and the area surrounding it, was in something of an uproar. Air bison had been flying in all week, from both the Southern and Eastern Air Temples, as well as the seemingly limitless bands of Air Nomads that were scattered all over the world. There were at least two-hundred air bison in the temple proper now, and upwards of twice as many more parked about the plain spreading out from the end of the causeway.

Suki sighed, pausing to grab some stray hairs and tuck them behind her ear. _And that's just the beginning of it. _The Northern Air Temple had turned into a veritable _meeting of nations. _Ships and soldiers from the Northern Water Tribe were boiling out of the orderly camp they had formed upon their arrival just a few days before, along with the numerous regiments of surprisingly well-armed and well-organized Earth Kingdom rebels. There were even Fire Nation soldiers scattered about, though most remained to the south, already marching for Ba Sing Se and the areas surrounding it.

In other words, her world was nothing but wars and rumors of wars, and everyone, man, woman, and child, was girding themselves for the final act.

_And here I find Sokka, the great warrior, perched on some military-style camp chair, frowning at a book by the fire._

Somehow, she couldn't find it in herself to be surprised.

She walked up to the crackling fire, holding out her palms, more out of habit than anything else. The winter was long gone, and already, the crippling heat that Zuko and Azula had warned her would accompany Sozin's Comet as it came round on its hundred-year journey could be felt rippling through the cool evening's breeze. Still…

_The fire is warm, and comforting. If I stand here, and close my eyes, I can pretend, just for a moment, that I never left Kyoshi. I've drawn the evening watch, and I'm standing by another fire, crackling in the night, sparks and embers flying up into the pitch black sky. Yingtai is making another of her jokes, and I'm rolling my eyes and laughing…_

_ Far, far away from either wars or Avatars…_

She shook her head. _Avatars…_

"Whatcha reading?" she asked, in her mangled, but passable, Inuktitut.

She turned her head slightly, focusing one eye on Sokka, who was shrugging, his brow furrowed, his lips pursed to one side of his face, his wolf-tail undone, leaving his hair dangling in thick curls about his face. "A Nihongo children's dictionary, if you can believe it."

She chuckled, turning her full gaze back to the fire. "No shit? Where'd you find that?"

"In the temple's library. Apparently, anyone who enters the monastic orders is required to learn as many languages as possible. You'd be amazed at what's in there."

She felt a smile form on her face. It felt very, very nice. "I can imagine. I have to say, it's nice to see you no longer relying on Katara to do your talking for you."

"_Psh. _Like I ever let a language barrier stop me from doing…well…_anything._"

Suki had to give him that. "True…plus, the more languages you know, the more quips and stupid jokes you can jot down in your little _Book of Comebacks_."

Sokka chuckled. "Heh…I think you've officially spent too much time around us, my dear." There was a pause, a moment of silence, broken by the _thump _of a book being slammed shut and the creak of Sokka's chair as he rose to his feet. Suki blinked, and then he was beside her, his own hands out, gathering the warmth of an unnecessary fire.

_Or maybe it's very necessary, more so now than ever…hmm…I bet Lobsang has a sutra about that…_

She sighed. _Lobsang has a sutra about __**everything, **__and if he didn't, he'd probably make one up._

"So," Sokka said, and she could feel the frown in his voice, "what's wrong? Or did you spend the hour it must've taken you to find me for nothing more than shits and giggles?"

She pulled her hands away from the fire, wrapped her arms around her body. She hugged herself tight, and wondered where all the hope and joy she had felt, not that long ago, when Korra had woken up, had gone.

_Somewhere…_

She shrugged. "Honestly…I…I'm not sure…"

She sensed the nod he was giving her. _Either me or the fire, or the mental projection of Katara that he says he relies on for all the best advice that he promptly ignores. _"Yeah…it's Korra, isn't it?"

_Yes, it is. _But she couldn't say it, couldn't quite force the words to form and slip from her mouth.

"Hmm…" he said, in a strange tone of voice. "Where are the others? I've kind of been avoiding everyone today."

"Yeah, I noticed…still…Asami's asleep, or, at least, she should be. I trained her hard today, and she's really nervous about the flight tomorrow, so I let her hit the sack early. Lobsang is…I think he's getting his own shut-eye…either that, or getting our bison ready."

"Or," Sokka pointed out, and she just knew, for a gods-damn _fact, _that he had that stupid grin of his on his face, "he meant to do all of that, but got side-tracked by some novices, and now he's giving an impromptu shadow puppet show."

"Heh…yeah, that, too."

"Yeah…what about Toph?"

Suki shook her head. _What about Toph… _"I'm pretty sure she's beating up on any earthbenders dumb enough to challenge her. Either that, or gambling again."

"Probably gambling, though…is it really gambling, if the person gambling never loses?"

She had to pause and ponder that for a moment. "You know, I haven't the faintest idea. _Gambling _is the best word we're going to find, though."

"True…and Korra?"

Her head fell, until her chin was resting on her chest. "_Korra…_I…I don't know, Sokka. I thought I knew her, but…she broke it off with Toph, Toph plays it cool, but any idiot with a brain can see what's happened. She doesn't talk to any of us anymore, and when she does, she's rattling off orders, and being cold and distant and-"

"We do know Korra," he cut in, and his voice sounded hard and full of strain. "I know her like a daughter, or a little sister. I love her to death, and I'll follow her to the ends of the earth."

She looked to him, watched the shadows dance across his face, tried to peer into eyes shrouded in darkness. "But…?" she prompted.

His shoulders slumped, and he sighed. "But…that isn't Korra anymore. Korra would never issue orders from on high like a god. Korra would never hurt anyone, not unless she had to, and never someone she loved. Korra would've run off the second she woke up, if only to land on my sister's ship for just long enough to get a hug and a kiss. Korra would never have had to be convinced to take action in Ba Sing Se. Korra…_she never would've done any of this…_"

Suki nodded, and turned away. "No, she wouldn't, would she? Then…then who is that, back at the temple? Who is this person with lifeless eyes and a cold shoulder for her friends? I mean…did you _see _how she reacted, when word came of what the Dai Li did in Ba Sing Se? Did you hear what she _said?"_

Sokka sighed, and somehow, she knew he was closing his eyes. "_Such things cannot be helped. Restoring the balance of the world will not be an easy process._"

Suki felt her own shoulders slump. _And then, she commanded that the rebels in the City make no major move without her, that they take the Inner City as soon as possible and resist the Fire Lord when he comes, that she would come to Ba Sing Se herself, so that the Fire Lord would have no choice but to meet her on ground of her choosing. _"So," she began again, her words barely more than a whisper above the crackle and pop of the fire, "what _is _that…that…_whatever it is? _What happened to our friend?"

Sokka shrugged. "Don't you see? What my sister was always afraid of. That's what that is."

She turned to Sokka, and her heart was filled with fear. "What is it?"

He opened his eyes, turned his gaze up towards the rising moon.

"Why, it's the Avatar, of course."

She looked away. "But…she wasn't like this, when she first came out of her coma…"

"Nope, she wasn't. But then, she did what she did, to all of us, and then she went and meditated on some fucking mountain over there for a night, and now, our Korra is gone.

"The Avatar has finally come."

Suki could only think of one thing to say.

_"Gods help us."_

Sokka, though, just scoffed, in a way Suki had never heard from him before, and never wanted to hear from him again.

"Like the gods have anything to do with it."

That time, she couldn't think of a single thing to say, nothing at all.

So she didn't.

* * *

And we're back! Good morning everyone! How was your weekend? Mine was actually pretty boss. Sure, I had to spend Saturday evening in Huntsville, which is an okay town, I suppose, but I wouldn't live there (too much nature for this city boy), but one of my old high school friends got married, which meant, for me, basically a high school reunion, so it was all good. Of course, it also meant that I might be officially an adult, because now all of my buddies from HS are married, and most of them have kids, too. Seriously, we all had a moment where we sat there, looked at each other, and went, "Fuck, are we grown up now? Yeesh."

But enough about that; back to the story! First, Lady Kaelyn, nah, that doesn't make you weird; it just means that we all need a little sanity slippage for our villains. That said, though, for everyone who's saying that Jiro doesn't seem the type, well...you know, you might be right. I mean, he's Jiro, right? Megalomaniac? Totally! Guy who's been harboring the fact that he's been crazy all along? That's a stretch...or is it? Has he, in fact, always been crazy, but going from triumph-to-triumph enabled him to mask it, and now that he's failing, slowly but surely, he's cracking?

Or is he, in fact, being driven crazy? Who was (or is) Kojima? Is there something more to him than meets the eye? Did he work some kind of weird Spirit World thing on Jiro?

Or is Jiro just crazy?

Or both?

Don't look at me; you decide!

Where was I...right, story! This chapter, I think, speaks pretty much for itself, beyond my asking the question: _Would you actually want to meet a fully-realized Avatar? _I don't think so. It would probably be...well...a lot like this.

Which might be the point of Korra's exercise here. Moving on!

In the next chapter, Azula makes a breakthrough. Stay tuned!


	73. AZULA IV

AZULA

IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE AZULA HAD BEEN THIS EXCITED. The closest she could come up with was that long, excruciating moment, waiting behind the closed temple doors, before said doors were thrown open and she followed Katara down the aisle. But even that paled in comparison to this moment, right here. After all, this wasn't just _any _excitement; no, this was a profoundly _childlike excitement, _something shorn of the cares and equivocations of adulthood. It was like…_it was like…_

_ It's a lot like my eighth birthday, when Zu-Zu surprised me with a doll he had had made for me, to my exact specifications, and I squealed, because I was eight, and even then, it was an occasion worthy of a national holiday for my brother to manage to surprise me._

She smiled, and tried very hard to relish that excitement. This was difficult, because the aforementioned brother couldn't seem to stop himself from giggling like some kind of deranged loon.

She scowled, and came very close to stomping her feet and growling something her mother would not have approved of, but, thankfully, and not for the first time, either, her sister-in-law stole the words right out of her mouth. "For the love of all the gods, Zuko," Katara barked, crossing her arms and flipping her hair, "do you _mind?_"

They were out on the forward deck of the ship, in an area typically used for firebending practice and, when the situation called for it, Agni Kais. The ocean stretched out in an endless expanse all around them, the water sparkling like a bed of diamonds in the bright orange sun. It was spring, but it was still warm, unseasonably so, considering how the winter wasn't all that far in the past. _I guess it's time for us to admit it: My great-grandfather's comet really is on the way. _Azula shook the morbid thought away, turned from her sister-in-law, whose face was set in the girl's patented _Katara Ain't Got Time for this Bullshit _look, a look that Azula followed all the way over to her brother, who really was, Agni bless his little heart, trying to stop giggling.

"I'm sorry," Zuko said, wiping a tear from his eye, "I really am. It's just…heh…it's just…hey, Zula, you know what this reminds me of?"

Azula rolled her eyes and tried not to huff. "What, the time you managed to surprise me with a doll when I was eight?"

Azula very much enjoyed the look of shock and consternation that came over her brother's face, which, to her bemusement, was similar to the one on Katara's face. "Wait," Katara said, extending a finger into the air, "you used to play with _dolls? _Like…_you?_"

Azula shrugged, pushing away her faint feelings of embarrassment. "What? I was a little girl once, too, you know."

"Which," Zuko pointed out, "never stopped her from stealing my action figures."

Katara giggled. "Yeah, you told me about that."

Azula just shrugged and held up a hand to examine her fingernails. "Hey, my dolls needed escorts to all the tea parties I threw for them. It's _your _fault, Zu-Zu, for never locking your toy chest."

Zuko's mouth fell open, and Azula smiled. _This day just keeps getting better and better. _"The fuck? I _always _locked my toy chest."

Azula put on her sweetest face. "Oh, really? I never noticed."

Katara's giggles turned into full-fledged laughter, while Zuko huffed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. So, back to what you dragged me out here for…"

The excitement came flooding back, and Azula did nothing to stop it. "Right!" She clapped her hands together, rubbing her palms back and forth, so stoked that she was beginning to vibrate. "So, Katara, show Zu-Zu that exercise of yours."

Having already been prepped by Azula, Katara nodded, and, after performing a few basic gathering forms, began bending water back and forth from two buckets placed to either side of her. Zuko watched for a few moments, but turned to do so, which left Azula with only his dead eye and no way of really gauging whether or not he was following what was going on. "Alright," he said, "but what's so special about that? I've seen you do that, like, I don't even know how many times, babe."

Katara sighed heavily, not slowing down in her bending for even a second. "I'm well aware of that, _dear, _but listen to your sister."

"Alright, Zula," Zuko replied, turning to face said sister, "what've you got for me?"

Azula didn't need any more encouragement. Struggling to keep the excitement from rendering her incoherent, she launched right into her theory.

"Okay, you know how all bending is, in some way, shape, or form, really about harnessing the energy of your element? Well, as it happens, and I'm sure we all already knew this, _but, _it bears repeating, bending fire and bending water are quite alike; there's a reason why they're opposing elements, after all. The key difference is that, in waterbending-"

"You bend _with _the energy," Zuko finished, nodding, what Azula hoped was a spark of realization in the depths of his eye, "but, when it comes to fire, you bend _against _the energy. Everyone knows this."

"Naturally, _but,_" and here, Azula extended a forefinger from each hand, jabbing them into the air either side of her face, "here's the thing: What if a firebender used a pure waterbending form? Like, take the form Katara's going through. What if a firebender used _that?"_

Zuko looked back to his wife, watching her intently (_maybe __**too **__intently, _Azula thought, _or, at least, not the right __**kind **__of intently_), nodding slowly. "You may be on to something…but I'm not sure it's applicable. You can't produce fire with a form like that, and I'm not sure how you could counter fire with it."

"Ah," Azula said, "but what if I wasn't try to bend _fire, _but _lightning._"

It took a moment, but then, right before Azula's eyes, things clicked in her brother's head. The light went on in that thick skull of his, and then his nodding became more enthusiastic, more pronounced. Azula looked to Katara, who looked right back at her and winked. Sure, the speed with which Zuko had caught on meant that Azula owed her sister-in-law ten _yen, _but hey, it was a good bet, and well won, as far as Azula was concerned.

"Hmm…" Zuko put a hand to his chin, began tapping said chin with a finger. "You know…hmm…so you're talking about a move to re-direct lightning?"

"Just watch how I'm re-directing the water," Katara replied, slowing down her form for emphasis. "This is the basis of waterbending, this form: _Re-directing the energy of the water. _I take it from one bucket, like _so, _then bend it across my body and to my target, without losing energy and, at the more advanced levels, _increasing it. _You following us?"

Zuko nodded. "I am, but…" He frowned, sighed, shook his head. "I dunno, it just seems too crazy, you know? Why hasn't anyone ever thought of this before?"

"Why should they?" Azula pointed out, as Katara stopped her bending and leaned back against the deck rail, arms crossed. "The Avatars have always maintained separation of the nations, in the name of _balance. _They've always been more mixed than anyone would admit, but it's only in the past hundred years that it's gotten so completely out-of-hand."

"Fair enough," Zuko admitted, still shaking his head. "Still…how would we test it? It's a good theory, but until it's put into practice, it's just that: _A theory._"

"That's simple enough," Katara observed. "Just throw a bolt of lightning at your sister."

Zuko's mouth fell open. "Come again?"

"You heard her," Azula said, dropping into the first part of the form her and her sister-in-law had worked out. "Throw a lightning bolt at me."

Zuko, as they had both expected, wasn't having any of it. "Um, how about…_no._" He held out his palms, crossed them back and forth through the air. "I mean, seriously, that's…you know…that's just fucking _crazy._"

"What," Katara observed, "as crazy as an exiled prince and former soldier marrying the daughter of a chief from the bottom of the world?"

"Or," Azula continued, "as crazy as said exiled prince joining forces with his equally royal sister to overthrow the very monarchy that gave them birth?"

Zuko rolled his eye. "Oh, come on, those are not even _remotely _the same kinds of things. I mean…you guys are asking me to throw a fucking _lightning bold _at my fucking _sister. _I'm not even that good at lightning! The only reason Master Shigenobu gave me a pass on that unit was because forming and using lightning isn't considered essential for…well…_anyone._"

"Which makes it even better," Azula said, her voice calm and casual. "After all, the bolt you throw won't be particularly powerful."

"Never mind the fact that there's a very talented waterbending healer right here on deck," Katara finished.

Zuko sighed, his shoulders slumping. "You guys are totally going to make me do this, aren't you?"

"You know the answer to that, Zu-Zu," Azula said, allowing a ferocious smile to stretch across her face. "Now, stop bitching, and get to it."

Zuko huffed. "Ugh. _Fine._" And with that, he took a deep breath, let it out, and began the proper gathering forms.

Azula watched, very closely. Her brother's problem had never been creating lightning _per se, _so much as it was a problem of consistent power and accuracy. Neither one of those issues worried Azula, though. After all, she was the Princess Tokugawa Azula; if she couldn't pull this off, _no one could._

_ But thank the gods Katara is here if I fuck it up…_

To the untrained eye, what Zuko did after he had gathered the proper amount of energy probably looked rather strange. Instead of throwing himself into a firebending form, he instead pulled all the energy into himself, extending the fore-and-middle-finger of each hand and pressing them together. He closed his eyes, taking deep, calming breaths, and then he began to pull those joined fingers apart.

Katara gasped, and Azula found herself wondering if the young woman's endorsement of this experiment had been primarily motivated by a desire to see her husband bend lightning. It was not a motivation that Azula minded; after all, it got her what she wanted. Still…

_Focus, girl. __**Focus.**_

The air was filled with a scent of burned ozone and the sound of crackling static. Slowly, steadily, Zuko pulled his fingers apart, lightning leaping from one point to another. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he began to move quickly, almost wildly (_to the untrained eye, at least_), whirling his hands around his body. He became wreathed in pulsing electricity, and the sun itself seemed to lose some of its brightness, some of its luster.

And through it all, Azula breathed in, and breathed out, falling into a pose very similar to the one Katara had been demonstrating, one arm fully extended, first two fingers on that hand jabbing out into the air.

Zuko's movements became quicker, until it seemed that he was nothing _but _lightning. Then, just as suddenly as he began, he struck, hurling out an arm, the _boom _of his lightning making the deck beneath Azula's feet shudder.

Time slowed. Azula focused on that point of light, that heaving, quivering mass of electricity and power that was racing for her. She breathed in, breathed out, began to move, and then…

_She caught the lightning on the tips of her fingers._

It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The hairs on her body stood up, and even as she focused, tried to remain calm, she felt panic and fear rise like bile in the back of her throat. She bit down on it, forced it back, even as she pulled the energy of the lightning down her arm and into her stomach. _Not into the heart; never into the heart. Only an idiot would do that. _Her stomach quivered and shook, and she felt queasy, like she had eaten too much too quickly and was on the verge of throwing up. She pulled in her extended arm, began to throw out the other. She pulled the energy out of her stomach, pushed it up her other arm, and then…

_**BOOM!**_

The lightning flew out of her other arm, and went flying, harmlessly, into the air.

It took a good minute before she realized what she had accomplished.

_I did it._

_ I. Fucking. __**DID IT.**_

She threw her fists into the air. _"Who's the motherfucking best now?! __**Eat it, Toph!"**_

Then she was in the air, because her brother had picked her up and swung her around, a wordless cheer bellowing out from his throat. As soon as he set her down, Katara was in her arms, and the two young women hugged each other tight, while scattered soldiers and sailors clapped and chanted her name.

It felt like a long time until they finally calmed down, and then Zuko was hugging her again, before pushing her away to hold her at arms' length. "So, you're totally going to teach me that, right?"

Azula scoffed. "Fucking _duh. _And we're going to try it with your wife, too."

"You really think that will work?" Katara asked.

Azula shrugged. "I don't see why not. You're bending the energy, not the element. Theoretically, _anyone _should be able to do this, so long as they can bend."

Katara pumped a fist up and down in the air. "_Sweet. _Best. Sister-in-law. _Ever."_

Which was how all three of them spent came to spend the next two hours hurling lightning at each other, giggling like schoolchildren, stopping only when the ship's horn blew. At that, they stopped giggling, their hearts dropping into the pits of their stomach.

Azula turned to the west, and saw land begin to rise out of the horizon.

She closed her eyes, and tried not to cry. It was a perfect day, except for one thing:

She would have given anything, _anything at all, _for her two best friends to be there.

* * *

I just had to twist the knife there at the end, didn't I? I'm an ass.

I hope that was fun, though. We needed a little fun; plus, gotta set some shit up for the final climax (because, in a story this big, you get not one climax, but _two) _(phrasing). Also, as for Katara doing lightning re-direction...it's a waterbending move. Personally, I see no reason why she wouldn't be able to pull it off. From what I've seen, a substantial portion of fanfic writers agree with me.

Random Digression: Katara's line about Azula being the _best sister-in-law ever _make me think of last night, when my wife showed me _Ponyo _(who's little end credits song has been stuck in my head ever since), and after Ponyo turned Sosuke's little toy boat into a legit boat, I said, "You know what that little boy is thinking? _Best. Girlfriend. EVER."_

A little glimpse into the married life for ya.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Bolin looks up at the sky. Stay tuned!


	74. BOLIN II

Quick Edit: Yeah, today's updates got fucked up, too. No idea how; I'm pretty sure it wasn't my fault, buuuuuuuuuuut...it probably is. *shrugs* It happens. Special thanks to the review from the no doubt [select gender appropriate epithet implying good looks to insert here] "Guest" for pointing that out! Fixed now!

Except for one thing: I _really _didn't feel like editing and polishing the same damn chapter in one damn day, so, sorry in advance for any "issues." Please, please, _please _keep that in mind before someone decides to point out every little typo.

* * *

BOLIN

BY THE TIME THEY FINALLY MADE IT TO BA SING SE, BOLIN, LIKE ALL THE OTHER SOLDIERS AROUND HIM, WAS WORN OUT AND FOOTSORE. Indeed, he was pretty sure that to call how his feet felt _footsore _would be an insult to sore feet everywhere. No, he had gone far past _sore, _into that magical realm that every soldier tired of marching dreams of, that being the moment when one couldn't feel one's feet anymore. Bolin struggled to come up with a way to describe the sensation as his unit stumbled into one of the many camps that the citizens of the city had thrown up in the past week. He frowned, mulling the problem over as he tossed his things on the ground (_apparently, nobody had had the time or materials to slap together some cots, which was fine by him, really_), throwing himself right after them.

He had just come up with a solution (_it's like your legs just end, and you're walking on strange mounds of fluff that you can't feel, but somehow transmit shockwaves up your spine and into your brain_) when he heard his name called. Or, more specifically, the phrase, "Hey, anyone seen Torihada Bolin? You in there, you asshole? Yo, Bolin!"

Bolin groaned, even as he smiled. He shoved up off the ground, somehow managing to reach what could charitably be called an _upright position. _"That you, Masakatsu?"

The voice was closer now, bellowing in thick backwoods Nihongo. "Bolin! Finally! I've been looking all over for you!"

"Well," Bolin said, getting himself off the ground and onto his feet, more through sheer force of will than anything else, "this is your lucky day."

He met his old friend (_which only goes to show, _Bolin reflected, _that war really does make for strange bedfellows…metaphorically speaking…_) halfway, the two men greeting each other with quick half-assed bows and heartfelt smacks to each other's backs. Chuckling as they light-heartedly ribbed each other, Masakatsu broke out two cigarettes, lighting them both before handing one over to Bolin. Bolin took a deep drag, then let it out. "Man…that really is the stuff. Shouldn't you guys be running out by now?"

Masakatsu shook his head. "If there's one thing those assholes in Miyako always made sure we had, it was tobacco. Fire Nation armies can barely march a mile without it. There was never less than a year's worth stockpiled in military depots all over the country."

"Most of which are now in your hands."

"Pretty much. So, quick question: You ever seen Ba Sing Se?"

Bolin shook his head. "No, I have not."

Masakatsu's eyes wide. "No shit? I mean…really?"

Bolin shrugged. "Why should I have? I grew up in and around Yu Dao, and when I ran off after my brother got drafted, I got sent straight to the back-of-beyond. You'd be more likely to have seen the City than me."

Masakatsu pursed his lips as he mulled that over. "Huh…well, I've never seen it, either. Biggest city I ever saw was Sapporo, where we shipped out from, and even then, I marched right through it and onto the docks. Blew my mind, let me tell you; the largest place I'd seen before that was the camp where I did Basic."

Bolin chuckled. "How big was your home village?"

"Eh…it wasn't? Let's go with that. So…wanna go see it?"

"Your village? No, thanks; I've seen enough Bumfuck, Earth Kingdoms, to last a lifetime; I can't imagine Bumfuck, Fire Nation, would be any different."

"It's not, trust me, but now, I'm talking about _Ba Sing Se_, boy!"

Bolin frowned. "I thought we weren't allowed into it yet?"

Masakatsu rolled his eyes. "We're not, but, apparently, there's a hill near here, you go to the top of it, you can see the whole damn city. You in?"

Bolin smiled. "Does a fire-ferret shit in the woods?"

For all that Bolin was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed (_such as it was_), he had to admit that the view was worth the extra half-mile's walk. The hilltop was crowded, and when Bolin looked to either side, he saw that other hills had acquired similar crowds. Not that he spent much time looking anywhere else but directly forward.

He let out a low whistle. "Damn. I'd heard it was big, but…_damn._"

Masakatsu just nodded. "You took the words right out of my mouth, buddy."

Masakatsu's intelligence had been spot-on. They really could see the whole city from this hill, or, at least, enough that it made no difference. The city was so large, Bolin's head hurt just trying to take it all in. Yu Dao had been nothing to laugh at, a pretty major city in its own right, but, from what he saw right then, one could've dropped all of Yu Dao in a corner of Ba Sing Se and not even been able to notice it was there.

It looked beautiful, too. The sun was falling below the horizon, and the city had turned into a riot of oranges and reds and purples. Sunlight flashed across countless windows, like fireflies blinking on-and-off in the night, and every shift in the breeze brought the smell of a thousand-thousand cooking fires to his nostrils.

_And other, less pleasant scents, too, _he thought with a sly grin, _but, hey, it's a city, can't have everything._

The only thing that marred the scene were the soldiers marching up-and-down in great columns, the tips of spears glinting like diamonds in the fading sunlight. It was a lot like watching blood flow through a vein, great red columns marching out, equally large green-and-brown columns marching in. And then, when he cast his eyes to the Inner City, to the former Imperial Palace that loomed over it all…

_Fires burning all around, camp fires this time, and great swathes of brown surrounding the Inner Wall, like scar tissue on human skin…_

He found himself laughing. It was an inappropriate moment, sure, but then again, his brother had been the one to wax poetic at strange moments; Bolin was generally much more plainspoken in his philosophy.

His shoulders slumped at the thought of his brother. _Please, Mako, please don't be a fool for once. Please, just…think about what's happening, and do the right thing…_

"So," Masakatsu asked, puffing a new cigarette to life, "when do your boys head into the city?"

Bolin shrugged. "You think they tell me?" He realized that he could ask Ming, but immediately discarded the idea. _I won't give him the satisfaction. _"We go in as your guys leave. If our guys have taken over all of your old forts and barracks before we get the chance, well…" He shrugged, feeling slightly crestfallen at the idea. "Then I might _never _get to see Ba Sing Se."

Masakatsu reached over and clapped Bolin on the shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. That just means you get to stand with us against the Fire Lord, when he gets here."

Bolin made a face. "Eh, I'm not sure I'm down with that. I've heard stories about him…"

Masakatsu didn't seem to be intimidated. "I'm not worried. His time, and the time of everyone else like him, is over. I know _I'm _never bowing to a Fire Lord, ever again. What about you guys? You going to install a new Emperor?"

"You know…" Bolin thought on it for a moment, and could only shrug. "I honestly have no opinion on that. I'm from the northwest, remember? Not Fire Nation, not Earth Kingdom. I distrust Fire Lords and Earth Emperors equally."

"Maybe you all should form your own country," Masakatsu offered.

Bolin found himself nodding, tapping a finger to his chin. "You know what…you might be on to something there…I mean, the nations are so mixed in up there anyways…why not? And if we've thought of it, an actual smart person is _sure _to have come up with something like it."

"Speak for yourself," Masakatsu scoffed, jabbing a thumb into his chest. "_I'm _the smartest person _I _know."

Bolin laughed. "Considering the company you keep, I don't doubt that."

Masakatsu rounded on him. "Hey now…you…see…holy _fuck._"

Bolin looked to his friend, and frowned as he realized that Masakatsu's eyes were wide as saucers, and his mouth was hanging open. "Masakatsu? Dude…what…" His voice trailed off, as he followed Masakatsu's gaze and looked up towards the heavens. "What…the…fuck…is…_that…_"

It wasn't a question, so much as it was a statement of shock. The multi-lingual chatter that had filled the air just a moment before died a quick death, and soon everyone, whether they wore red or green, was looking up at the sky, some pointing and babbling in confusion, most just staring, dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what they were seeing.

For, up above, as far as the eye could see, the sky was filled with flying animals, backs covered with people clad in oranges and yellows.

When Bolin's mother died, she had given him the talisman that she had worn all her life. He wore it still, and he reached for it now, pulling it out and pressing it to his lips. Awe filled him, awe shot through with fear.

Somehow, he knew, deep in his gut, that the Avatar had arrived.

He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that.

* * *

Soooo...I had a whole nice author's note to this, but apparently, that is...gone! Woo! But hey, these things happen. I do feel the need to give credit for the way Masakatsu describes his home village to a line I stole from my best friend in college, Pickles, who's answer to, "How big is your hometown?" was, "Eh...it isn't."

Also, sorry about any mistakes. *looks cute* As I said, _please_ don't point them all out to me... *smiles*

Moving on! Asami! Who no longer gets two chapters for the price of one! Stay tuned!


	75. ASAMI V

ASAMI

IT WAS, ASAMI HAD TO ADMIT, A MAGNIFICENT VIEW. Ba Sing Se came into sight just as the setting sun struck the city. The glare was almost blinding, but not enough to make her look away. For one thing, it was beautiful, bordering on glorious. For another, it meant that her journey through the air was almost over.

_Thank the __**gods.**_

They had the air bison pretty much to themselves, the four of them, Sokka, Suki, Toph, and her, with Lobsang up on the pilot's bench. All the other bison, upwards of three-hundred, she had heard, were packed to the brim with armed and armored Air Nomads, except for two. Theirs, because it was felt that the Company of the Avatar deserved their own bison, and one other.

_One other…_

She resisted the urge to turn and look at the _one other. _It wouldn't have taken much. Just a raising of the head, a slight turn forwards, and there she would see it, the bison that had only two passengers, one monk to fly it…

_And one teenage girl meditating in the saddle…_

Asami pushed herself away from the edge, turning around and slumping to the floor, back to the lip of the saddle. She felt lost, confused, and vaguely depressed, and, from what she could see, everyone else felt the same way. Lobsang slumped up on his bench, looking, for the first time since she had met him, his own age. Sokka huddled in a ball, blanket pulled tight over his head, and Suki leaned over the side, idly hanging her arm into the air, her hand lazily moving up and down with the currents. And Toph…

Asami sighed, and tried not to frown. She didn't have words to describe how Toph looked; the best she could come up with was _forlorn. _It didn't help that she knew why, knew why they all seemed so _lost._

_Because Korra woke up, but didn't come back._

_ Only the Avatar returned._

She closed her eyes, setting her head back against the rim of the saddle with a soft _thunk. It'll be okay, _she told herself. She reached back into her memories, latched on to what Katara had told her, before she left the temple.

_You don't have to believe in the Avatar; I don't. Just believe in Korra._

Asami took hold of that thin thread, held it tight to her heart, to her battered soul.

_I believe in Korra. Mai didn't die in vain. Ty didn't die in vain. Mako didn't die in vain._

_ None of this has been in vain, because at the heart of that __**thing **__over there…_

_ Korra remains._

She didn't know if she really believed that, but she was willing to have faith that she believed that. She had to.

It was the only way she kept moving.

_And somehow, _she thought, as she cast her gaze over the others, _I don't think I'm the only one._

* * *

Shit's getting real, ladies and gentlemen. Hope you're ready.

Moving on! In the next chapter, a prince and a princess finally make it hope. Stay tuned!


	76. HOMECOMING

HOMECOMING

THE FIRE NATION PROPER, NOT INCLUDING THE SUNSET ISLANDS, WHICH STRETCH LIKE EMERALDS SCATTERED BY A BORED GIANT ACROSS THE GLITTERING SEA, RESEMBLES, IN MANY WAYS, A CRESCENT MOON. The northern and southern halves are the arms of this crescent, linked by a narrow, mountainous isthmus, and curving first away, and then towards each other, almost meeting, but not quite. Between them is a great expanse of sea and scattered islands, the Gulf of Ise, which teems with fish and is always full of trade ships darting back and forth from the various ports, and military ships going either east, to war, or west, to home.

At the mouth of this gulf, between the two tips of the arms of the crescent, is a large island, which controls transit in and out of the Gulf of Ise. This island is called Uta-Jima, and it has been the personal property of the Fire Lords since Tokugawa Meiji conquered it, early in his campaign of unification. On that dark day, Fire Lord Meiji appeared, and demanded the immediate submission of the lord of the island, Lord Shinohara. Lord Shinohara, of course, refused, since this was early in the new Fire Lord's conquests, and most doubted his power. In response, Fire Lord Meiji descended upon Uta-Jima with fire and sword, and exterminated the Shinohara clan root and stem. The island resented the Tokugawas ever after, and when the Southern Fleet rose against Fire Lord Azulon, Uta-Jima rebelled, and, for its troubles, was again turned into a land of soot and ash and death. From then on, it was a purely military place, the only civilians being those who worked the bases, and the scattered fishermen who had been too unimportant to be slaughtered.

No doubt Fire Lord Azulon would have been surprised to see the island's garrison surrender to his grandson, his granddaughter, and his grandson's Water Tribe wife, without so much as a fire-whip being cracked.

Fire Lord Azulon's campaign of pacification had left little standing, but one thing survived, why, no one is entirely sure. This was a beautiful shrine, standing on the eastern edge of the island, looking out across the sea, as if it was trying to peer through the mists to glimpse the Earth Kingdom beyond. It has been called, since time out of mind, Yashiro Shrine, and is a thing of beauty. It sits upon the crest of a hill that rises straight up from the shore. To worship there, one must ascend a good two-hundred stone steps, ultimately passing under a _torii _guarded by a pair of stone dragons. The shrine itself, up at the top of these steps, is dedicated to Watatsumi-no-Mikoto, the god of the sea, younger brother of Agni, who created the Fire Nation by dipping the tip of his sword into the sea, drawing the land up from the earth hidden below the waves, and possesses a treasury of many old and priceless artifacts, though how these survived Fire Lord Azulon's holocaust, no one knows.

It was to this shrine that the former royals, Zuko and Azula, went, after their launch slid up on the beach. First, they fell to their knees, and pressed their foreheads into the wet golden sand. Tears fell, unhindered, without shame, from Zuko's good eye. He could barely breathe, so strong were the emotions churning and swirling within his soul. At any moment, he felt like he would burst. He just couldn't believe it. He kept expecting to blink, to discover that this was all a dream, that he was still in his bunk at the Academy, and Toru was shaking him awake, laughing as he told him to get a move on.

Before he and his sister ascended the two-hundred steps of the shrine, he turned, back to his wife, who stood in the launch, wiping tears from her eyes. He smiled. He wanted nothing more than for her to come with him. He had almost begged her to stand by his side. She had just smiled her wonderful smile, kissed him softly on the cheeks, and told him that he and his sister deserved this moment to themselves.

He still wasn't sure she was right; at any moment, he felt like he was going to pass out. _Over five years…over five years…and I'm finally home… _He could barely stand it; he needed her strength.

But then she smiled at him, blew him a kiss, and waved her hand around in the air, very subtly telling him to _get a move on already. _

He chuckled, and turned to his sister. "Ready, sis?" he asked.

Azula rolled her eyes and scoffed, desperately hoping that her brother wouldn't notice that her eyes were wet and her bottom lip was trembling, even as she knew he saw right through her façade. "Any time you want to get off your lazy ass is fine with me, Zu-Zu."

He laughed, kissed her softly on the top of her head, rose to his feet, and, together, they walked up the steps. At the top, they fell to their knees and bowed to the ancient stone image of Watatsumi-no-Mikoto, so old no one had the slightest clue who had built it; rumor said it was even older than the temple itself. They clapped to get the attention of the god, bowed, foreheads to the ground, three times, chanting the ritual prayers, before rising only to bow once more to the head fire sage of the temple. They presented their sacrifice, two big fish that they caught personally (_though they left out how, by __**caught personally, **__they both really meant, __**Katara used waterbending to help us cheat**__; they were sure the gods wouldn't mind_). The fire sage thanked them for their sacrifice, and welcomed them home.

Azula let a few tears out at that. It was wonderful, being home, beside her brother. She had dreamed of this day for over five years now, ever since that terrible, horrible day when he had been taken from her. She had even dreamed of coming to this island, and this shrine, ever since she first saw it when she was a teenager, traveling to visit her brother during one of his summers at the Watanabe estate. But she just couldn't get over…couldn't accept…

_Mai and Ty aren't here…_

She didn't think she would ever accept that. She'd talked it over with Katara, and, together, they'd decided that, for now, it was okay. She didn't tell her brother, though; he'd only worry.

There was one more thing to do, before they left the island and headed for Sapporo, the City of the Fire Fountains. Several more launches had drawn up while Zuko and Azula were worshiping at the shrine, each one loaded down with fire sages and ceramic urns. Each urn was filled with little bags, and in each little bag, there was a bone, generally finger bones, sometimes others, all of them small. These urns were piled up upon the beach, and then, after a special memorial service, they were burned, the ashes allowed to scatter to the winds.

Katara watched, though she did not take part; she did not feel as if it was her place. She found the ceremony strange, but also strangely beautiful. In the Fire Nation, it was believed that, in order for one's soul to be at rest, at least a part of one's body, no matter how small, even the bone from the tip of one's finger, had to be cremated in the land of one's birth. Her own people had a similar belief, in that, at least in the south, no matter where one died, one had to be taken to the sea to be laid to rest, or at least a part of one. Only the ocean itself would do; rivers and ponds wouldn't cut it. How else was one to rejoin one's ancestors, who had made the journey before you?

She also, though, found the ceremony very sad. She felt a tear burn in the corner of her eye, fall and trail its way down her cheek, sniffed, wiped it away. She watched the smoke billow up into the sky, reaching up for the sun. She imagined she saw all of those souls, the souls of young men and boys, racing off into the sky, to join hands with their ancestors. Each puff of smoke, each flying ember, was another life, another soul, snuffed out too son.

She sniffed, wiped another tear away, reached down and took her husband's hand, right as he was reaching for her own. She wrapped herself around his arm, nestled her head atop his shoulder, while, on the other side, her sister-in-law let Zuko put an arm around her shoulders and pull her close. And thus, they stood, and watched, and prayed for all the innocents, the women, children, the elderly, who died for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the young boys, who had had weapons shoved into their hands, and who marched away to die, so very far from home.

She looked up to the sky, and wondered. _Will I ever go home again? Even if I set foot there, walk into my old house, hug my mother and my father and Gran-Gran again, will I ever actually be able to be __**home? **_And she knew, in ways she couldn't begin to put into words, that her husband and her sister-in-law were thinking much the exact same thing.

* * *

You never can go home again, can you? But it's nice to be able to see it, especially when, like Zuko, five years ago, you had to resign yourself to never even glimpsing it again.

For those playing the home game, one of my favorite writers is a guy named Yukio Mishima (real name Kimitake Hiraoka), one of whose books was _The Sound of Waves, _which is about...well...it's hard to explain, just read it; it's not too difficult to find, if you peruse secondhand bookstores. Point is, I stole the temple on the island where the action takes place for this particular chapter. I just loved the description, and decided it'd make a nice, solid, slightly obscure reference, in short, the best kind of reference.

For those still playing the home game, the Japanese have a similar belief about how at least a part of you has to make it back to Japan in order for your soul to be at rest. That's where a lot of the stories from World War Two, of Japanese soldiers being cannibals, came from. Allied troops kept finding Japanese bodies with hands and fingers wrapped up in their bags, and assumed that the _dirty no good Japs _(to quote my grandfather, God rest his old soul) must be filthy cannibals, when, in fact, this is what was going on.

What else? Oh, yeah, I just like the idea that ever nation has funeral rites that reflect their element. The people of fire return to fire, the people of earth return to earth (probably buried), the people of water return to water, air to air, you get it.

That's all for today! A lot of long chapters today and tomorrow for some reason, in a story that is going to have a truly ridiculous number of chapters, but is on course to be no longer than Book One. Weird how that works out.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Kiyoshiro figures out what Jiro's up to, for all the good it does him. Stay tuned!


	77. THE CONFIDANTE III

THE CONFIDANTE

"I'M NOT SURE I FOLLOW WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO TELL ME."

It was only with the greatest effort that Kiyoshiro managed to bite down on a groan. He looked to his companion, made a vague gesture begging for support. Alas, for all that he was a grizzled old soldier, General Sugita Kouji was just that, _a grizzled old soldier. _He was tall and lean, with a face seemingly chiseled from stone, hair long since gone to grey, and a voice like crushed gravel. He was good at following orders, bellowing on the battlefield, and not much else. He had spent his entire life, from the age of seventeen, in uniform, and while he was well-suited to overall command of the Home Army, he was spectacularly ill-suited to dealing with a Crown Regent who seemed to have one foot in the grave, one foot on the tail of a penguin-seal.

Which left Kiyoshiro turning back to said Crown Regent, pinching his nose, taking a deep breath, and trying again.

"What we're trying to tell you, my lord," he began once more, working very hard to keep the frustration from showing in his voice, "is that two individuals claiming to be your cousins are believed to have made landfall on Uta-Jima the day before yesterday. Any minute now, they could be landing in the Homeland proper, probably at Sapporo, which, given the recent disorders there and in other southern cities, is likely to welcome them with open arms."

"In other words, my lord," Sugita cut in, leaning forward, his knuckles going white as his grip tightened on his knees, "we are currently facing a very real possibility of civil war."

Yoshihito heard, Kiyoshiro was sure of that, for all that he didn't seem to show it. They were all in his study, Yoshihito sitting where he always sat these days, in his chair, sipping his endless glasses of fire whiskey, staring off into space. For a moment, Kiyoshiro despaired of ever getting through to him, until, finally, the boy spoke.

"Alright," he said, sounding just as disinterested as before, "but what does that have to do with me?"

Kiyoshiro felt his teeth grinding together, a sharp pain lancing through his temples. _Ancestors, lend me your strength. I ask you, because it's obvious the gods are just toying with me now. _"What we need you to do, my lord, is the same thing you are already doing. We need you to speak to the people, show a strong face, represent a united government, make clear to the people that their options are between chaos and order, and that you represent order."

Yoshihito nodded, which, Kiyoshiro supposed, was better than nothing. "I see…I suppose it doesn't matter that I'm not the most popular person in the nation, right?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," Kiyoshiro said, even though it was all he thought about these days. The sad fact was that it was true. At the end of the day, even those who were nominally loyal to the Fire Lord, who had no interest in the talk of revolution and republic filtering back from the troops overseas, would, for the most part, rather anybody, literally _anybody, _succeed Iroh, so long as it wasn't the man sitting before him right now.

_And it doesn't help that the choice we're offering people is not...ideal. The rebels say, __**Follow us, and know peace, **__while we can only say, __**Follow us, and we'll win someday, we promise. **_Kiyoshiro sighed. _No, not ideal at __**all.**_

Kiyoshiro took a deep breath, and pressed forward. "The important thing is the image we project. Prince or not, heir or not, this government cannot function in the absence of His Majesty your father without the legitimacy your name gives us. One good speech from you would stiffen a lot of resolve."

"It would also give heart to the troops we're gathering," Sugita added. "Maybe, say, a promise that all those who serve well in the coming campaign will not be sent to fight overseas…?"

Kiyoshiro felt his eyebrow pop. "Is that even possible?"

Sugita shrugged. "It's worth a shot. At the very least, it would give us something to counter the central argument of this revolution."

Kiyoshiro raised a finger in objection. "We can't call it a _revolution. _That elevates the rebels to a higher level. We must continue to consider it a _rebellion, _plain and simple."

Sugita, though, didn't seem to be having it. "Apologies, my lord, but that seems like a matter of semantics. The threat has progressed far beyond anything we've dealt with since the Southern Mutiny."

"But, you see, we can't show that we think that. We must-"

The doors behind him slammed open, followed by a polite interjection. "We must strike now, hard and fast, and put these traitors' heads on pikes. _That's _what we must do, semantics be damned."

Kiyoshiro's blood ran cold, as it always did when he had to listen to that monster's voice. Sure enough, he turned, and into the room strode none other than that beast Matsuura. For a moment, Kiyoshiro saw red. All self-control slipped, and he mentally cursed himself for not assigning enough people to keep watch on the man. _I'll double the detail…no, __**triple it. **__Or maybe just have him thrown in a cell on trumped-up charges…yes, that might work…_

But the damage was done. Matsuura had made his grand entrance, was pulling a chair into their little circle. Before he sat, he turned to Kiyoshiro and Sugita, and gave a perfectly correct, perfectly polite bow. "My lords, sorry I'm late." While Kiyoshiro fumed, and, from the looks of it, Sugita was about to pop a blood vessel, Matsuura turned, and rendered a ridiculously overwrought bow to Yoshihito. "Good evening, Your Highness. I trust I find you well."

Yoshihito, to Kiyoshiro's relief, seemed unimpressed. "I'm as well as I ever am," he said, shrugging and waving at the chair Matsuura had appropriated for himself. "Sit down, if you're going to. I assume you know what the Lord Chancellor and the General have been telling me."

Matsuura settled himself easily into the chair, lighting up a cigarette and pouring himself a glass of fire whiskey from the prince's bottle. He looked as he always did, calm, at ease, supremely self-assured, _master of all he surveyed._

_ And yet… _Kiyoshiro frowned, gave himself a shake. There was something wrong, something…well…_off. _The man's eyes kept flicking to the side, as if something was lurking in the corners. Every once in a while, he would start, sit up, eyes wide, his head wiping around wildly, after which he would laugh and pretend that nothing would happened.

_And my watchers swear that sometimes, when he's alone, they can hear him talking to someone who's not there…_

Which was why Kiyoshiro had done everything he could to make sure the man didn't attend this little meeting. _For all the good it did me. _Regaining control of his temper, Kiyoshiro settled back in his own chair, his hands spreading out in an expansive, ostensibly friendly way. "Well, _Colonel, _now that you're here, what have you to add?"

Matsuura looked at him like he had just dribbled on his robes. It made Kiyoshiro want to reach out and pop the man's eyeballs from his head. "Well," he said, in that same calm, even tone he always used, "isn't obvious? We have to take the offensive. We can't just sit here and wait for these rebels and their phony figureheads to come for us, or watch as the cancer of their rebellion spreads. We must make a big show, strike hard, strike fast. Surely," he finished, inclining his head, until only his eyes seemed to blaze out from the shadows that somehow always covered his face, "that was what you were telling His Royal Highness."

Kiyoshiro shook his head. "Not exactly, _Colonel. _I'm afraid the situation is much more complicated than that."

Matsuura shrugged. "I'm not sure it is. Don't you think so, Your Highness?"

Kiyoshiro watched, his heart slowly sliding down into his feet, as, for the first time in he didn't know how long, Yoshihito turned, slowly, steadily, and looked at something other than his window and his whiskey glass. The flames from the fireplace sent shadows dancing across his face, and, for once, Kiyoshiro was pretty sure he saw life in the boy's eyes.

That was when it clicked. That was when Kiyoshiro saw Matsuura's plan. He would take advantage of the Crown Prince's weakness, make himself into the loudest, strongest voice in the room. He would play on Yoshihito's latent ego, nurse it back into health. He would twist and manipulate the prince, until, by the time the Fire Lord returned, _if the Fire Lord returned, _he would have made himself indispensable. And, when the time came for Iroh to choose a new heir, well…

_The people will remember who rode out and destroyed the rebellion. They will remember the strong, handsome young man, who looked every inch as a prince should, and then only the gods will be able to save us from whatever it is that I see slithering in the depths of his eyes._

Meanwhile, Yoshihito had sighed, as if he really couldn't be bothered. "I'm not here to think, cousin."

"Oh," Matsuura said, smiling his horrid little smile, "but you are. You're the Crown Regent, aren't you? The decision, and the thinking, are there for you to take. Oh, let me." Yoshihito had polished off his current glass, reached forward to pour another one, but Matsuura beat him to the punch, ostentatiously filling the glass almost to the brim. "Here you go, Your Highness."

Yoshihito took the glass, a strange look on his face as he leaned back, sipping his fresh whiskey. "Um…thank you, cousin. What is it that you're wanting, precisely?"

Matsuura gave a languid, indifferent shrug. "Only for the right to present my own plan to the Privy Council tomorrow. I would appreciate your support, but all I ask for is an open ear."

Yoshihito took another sip, nodded, and returned his attention to his window, his mouth quirking up into a strange _thing _that Kiyoshiro couldn't quite bring himself to call a smile. "I just have to sit there and nod, eh, cousin? Well, I don't see a problem with that. Any objections, my lords?"

Unfortunately, Kiyoshiro couldn't think of a single one. For all that Yoshihito was a powerless prince, he was still a prince.

It was the first time Kiyoshiro ever let himself think that the rebels may have been on to something.

* * *

Does Jiro know the full story behind Zuko's scar? Of course he does, and he just played it to the hilt. Did Yoshihito fall for it, or is something else going on? Well, for that, you'll just have to read on.

Also, thanks to somebodysusername for the mental image they gifted me with their review of the most recent Bolin chapter, because now that's all I can think about to. *glares while trying not to giggle like a little kid*

*Quick Edit* In the original version of this chapter, I accidentally attributed that review to "storyoftheunknownfangirl." My only excuse is that those are, at a quick glance, two very similar S/Ns, and sometimes my brain is reading my reviews without enough nicotine coursing through it, and it gets confused. It really is a sad, pathetic little thing. I apologize profusely, my loyal fans; you all rock equally in my book.

But enough of all that. Moving on! In the next chapter, Iroh watches his army march. Stay tuned!


	78. THE FIRE LORD III

THE FIRE LORD

IT WAS, THE FIRE LORD THOUGHT, A TRULY GORGEOUS DAY. Noon was approaching, the sun high up in a cloudless sky, almost directly overhead. Birds darted in and out of the trees that stretched away from the road, while to the other side, freshly planted crops swayed softly in a cool, gentle breeze, flashing and rippling over low, rolling hills. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of grass and trees and life seep into his soul. It was all there, not just the wild notes of nature or the tightly controlled smells of civilization, but also the unmistakable scent of an army on the move. He smelled polished leather, the acrid sting of smoke from a thousand-thousand cigarettes burning harsh army tobacco, the pungent stink of pack animals and soldiers who had been sweating all day in their armor. And the sound…the sound, that was what he loved best. The clatter and clank of pots and pans, of spears being shifting from one shoulder to the other, the muttered curses and the excited gossip, the snap and crack of banners fluttering in the wind.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and smiled. _The soldier's life. Why did I ever leave it?_

He sighed, and allowed his eyes to open once more. _Because duty called. Duty to my people, duty to my father, duty to my ancestors._

_ Duty…_

He was standing on a hill to the side of the road, looking back towards the south, watching as the great scarlet columns snaked through the countryside. Occasional shouts broke the din, drovers bellowing at animals, sergeants barking at soldiers, officers snapping at sergeants. The earth rumbled, and a squad of tanks came rolling by, slow and steady, and the air was filled with the sharp bite of exhaust and the coughs and curses of the soldiers who were enveloped in the smoke.

He turned, looked to the east, towards another road, another great blood-red column inching its way over the land. He turned again, to the west, saw yet another, narrowed his eyes, tried to peer through the haze of the horizon to see the sparkling sea, where those ships that still flew his banner danced a deadly ballet against those who were once their brothers, along with great blue ships that darted in and out of unnatural fogs.

He turned, one last time, to the north. If he squinted, he could just make out the leading edges of the columns, glimpse little dots dashing back and forth, outriders screening their advance. A faint hum came to his ears, and though he didn't look up, he didn't need to, didn't need his eyes to tell him of the lumbering behemoths called _airships _lazily crawling across the great pale blue bowl over his head.

In short, everywhere he looked, he saw war, the great engines of humanity coiling themselves, preparing to spring forth into the darkness, a darkness that would swallow the hearts and souls and minds of young men barely old enough to shave, young minds, young promise, snuffed out and ground into the dirt and the dust and the mud, a tragedy, no matter what uniform they wore, or what banner they flew.

He sighed, and sipped his tea. A movement caught his eye, and he looked down the hill, watched a young soldier, a corporal by his rank piping, come huffing and puffing towards him. The corporal stopped before him, snapped to attention, bowed deep at the waist. "Permission to approach Your Majesty," the boy barked, his speech clipped and very military.

Iroh dipped his head and motioned the boy forward. "Come on, then, young man." The young man came right up before him, and bowed once more. Iroh sighed, resisting the urge to cluck his tongue. _Such manners all these soldiers have. I wouldn't be surprised if half of them would rather I abdicated and let them all go home, but they're still polite, because I'm here, and it's harder to mutiny when the Fire Lord is standing right in front of you._

He smiled, and allowed his voice to become soft and benevolent. That surprised him sometimes, how easily the old habits came flooding back, the ancient principles of command. "What have you got for me, Corporal?"

The boy inclined his head, looking everywhere but into Iroh's eyes. "Your Majesty, General Tanaka in the vanguard begs to report that he has just intercepted a messenger hawk from Chancellor Feng. It appears that the Avatar has arrived in Ba Sing Se, along with a substantial force of Air Nomads."

Iroh nodded. "I see. Well, it was only to be expected." He took a moment to examine the boy. The corporal couldn't have been more than nineteen or twenty-years-old, clean-shaven, tall and spindly, with a man's build but a boy's face. "What's your name, Corporal?"

The boy looked up, eyes wide in surprise. "Um…Your Majesty?"

Iroh chuckled, and smiled. "Your name, Corporal."

"Oh…um…Shibuya, Your Majesty. Corporal Shibuya Kazuhiro."

"Hmm…where are you from, Corporal Shibuya?"

"Um…Shiogama, Your Majesty. It's a fishing village in Sendai Prefecture."

Iroh gave a grave nod. "On the western coast, correct?"

The boy bowed his head. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Come from a family of fishermen, do you?"

The boy shook his head. "No, Your Majesty. My father is a shipwright, as was his father before him. We build and maintain the boats that the fishermen take out." The boy gulped, and Iroh's heart went out to him. He knew all too well that standing before a Fire Lord, no matter how innocuous the conversation, felt, to most people, like an interrogation. "Actually," the boy continued, nervously shifting his weight from foot-to-foot, "my uncle served under you, during the War."

Iroh grinned, and he felt the brightness bleed from his smile to his eyes. "Did he now? Was he with me when I broke the walls of Ba Sing Se?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. He was wounded early in the campaign, lost his left arm to a flying boulder."

Iroh frowned, and sighed. "That is most unfortunate. I hope it did not hurt his trade."

"Not at all, Your Majesty. My uncle is a very determined man. He always spoke highly of you."

"Heh…I'm sure he did." Iroh looked up once more, to the north. "Did he tell you about the walls?"

"He did, Your Majesty. He said they were very big."

Iroh laughed. "_Big?! _Big, Corporal Shibuya, does not begin to cover it. You could actually see the first one from here. They were _massive, _something only earthbenders could make, and the walls weren't the big part. They were more a long line of interconnected fortress, a masterpiece of advanced earthbending and engineering, thrown up not five years after my grandfather began the War. Do you know how I broke through the First Wall?"

"Subterfuge, was it not, Your Majesty?"

"Well," he admitted, rolling his head from side-to-side, "that was part of it. But the biggest part was actually quite a big secret at the time. In essence, it was earthbenders who erected the Walls, and so I used earthbenders to rip them open. The Emperors never were universally popular in their own land, and after such a long war, there were more than a few earthbending sons born to Fire Nation fathers." He frowned, and looked down into his tea cup. "It didn't work for the Second Wall, though. By then, the enemy was on to me, and were prepared."

"I…see…Your Majesty…"

Iroh almost clapped the boy on the shoulder and gave him a lighthearted shake. _Oh, you poor boy, stuck standing here, listening to an old man prattle on about his glorious triumphs. If I was you, I'd already have made up an excuse and fled. _"Tell me, young man, are you the only member of your family in uniform?"

The boy's face went pale, and his eyes went straight into the ground. "Um…no, Your Majesty…I have a brother, two years older, who's still doing his National Service, and several cousins."

"I see…where are they serving?"

The boy stammered a few times before finding his voice. "My…um…you see…one of my cousins is serving in the Home Army, and another one is in the quartermaster's corps, in this very army…and…um…another cousin, and…um…my brother…you see…um…" He turned bright red, and began tugging at where his uniform collar poked up from under his armor and brushed against his neck. "Well…"

Iroh flashed the boy his most indulgent smile. "They're in units that have mutinied."

The boy shrugged. "As far as I know…um…_yes…_" The boy bowed lowed. "A thousand apologies, Your Majesty. I-"

Iroh silenced the boy with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it. In times like these, such things can't be helped." He took a sip of his tea, set it on its cup, and gave a polite bow to the boy. "Go back to General Tanaka, Corporal Shibuya. Tell him that I commend him for getting this information to me, and that his orders remain the same. Dismissed, Corporal."

A look of relief washed over the boy's face, and he bowed, mumbled something polite, and beat a hasty retreat.

Leaving the Fire Lord, standing upon a hill, looking off into the distance, thinking about the past, and about families torn apart.

* * *

I don't know about you, but for me, at least, it's nice to see Iroh get out of the snake's pit that is the Fire Nation Palace, get back into the field, and start looking like the guy we actually know and love. Guy never should've taken the throne, no matter that he was the heir and, in this timeline, actually physically in the capital when Azulon died.

Also, why is Iroh being so chill about soldiers with divided families? Because he's smart enough to know what actually matters. He has a battle to win; that's what's important right now. Everything else is so much white noise for the nonce.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Toshiro watches a sunset with Zuko. Stay tuned!


	79. TOSHIRO III

TOSHIRO

HE FOUND ZUKO OUT ON THE BALCONY, LOOKING OUT TOWARDS THE SETTING SUN. Toshiro smiled; even back at the Academy, Zuko had been known for staring off into the horizon, as if, even then, he sensed that he would one day be more than a _spare of a spare. _A faint smile on his lips, Toshiro went up to the balcony, mirroring his friend's lean against the railing. "Thought you could use a re-fill," he said, holding out a fresh glass of spiced wine.

Zuko nodded, absently taking the glass and setting down the one he hadn't even half-finished. "Thanks, Toshiro," he said, and refocused his attention on his sunset.

For a few moments, Toshiro let it be. It was a marvelous sight. The sun was a shimmering disc, half-covered by the earth. It had turned the sky the color of fire, the Gulf of Ise sparkling, diamonds thrown over a bed of orange. Ragged clouds threaded through the sky, a riot of pinks and purples and golds, while, spread out below their feet, the city prepared for night, the smell of evening cooking thick in the air, a hush spreading over all with the coming of the night.

_Yes, _Toshiro thought, _my hometown really is a beautiful place. _He sighed, and, for a moment, closed his eyes. _It really is good to be Home._

But he hadn't come out here just to stare at sunsets, had he? _No, I did not. I came to check on my friend, and make sure he is okay. _Reluctantly opening his eyes, he sighed, and gave Zuko a nudge with his elbow. "How're you holding up, Zuk?"

Zuko shrugged, taking a tiny sip from his glass and a puff from the cigarette blazing from between his fingers. "I'm…I guess I'm doing. It's…it's really weird to be back in the Homeland. It's been so long…heh…you know, I never really thought I'd make it back, or, if I did, it'd be in a ceramic urn. And yet…here I am."

Toshiro nodded. "Yup, here you are."

Zuko pursed his lips, his jaw moving under his skin as if he was chewing on something. "I still can't quite believe the response we're getting. I mean…I knew people were ready for a change, but I didn't realize how ready, you know?"

"Well," Toshiro said, "if you think about it, it makes perfect sense. All people really needed was someone to rally behind, something to focus their discontent and put it into words. Once they got not just one royal, but _two, _openly saying what so many have been thinking in their heads, well…" He shrugged, and spread his hands, taking in, not just Sapporo, but their native land. "You can see what's happened."

"True," Zuko admitted. "I guess it's not really about me, is it?"

Toshiro chuckled. "You thought it was?"

Zuko scoffed. "Fuck no, though it's hard not to wonder, when you spend all day being called _prince _for the first time in over five years."

Toshiro turned a quizzical eye to his friend. "What, your fellow officers never called you that?"

Zuko rolled his eye. "Only in jest, mostly as a general comment on how ridiculous the idea was."

Toshiro jerked a thumb down towards the city. "Not to them."

Zuko, for all that he could be oblivious, was way ahead of him. "I don't care what you think or what your father thinks or what this weird little _organization _you've found yourself in thinks," he said, a hint of anger in his voice, "and I don't care how much pressure you put on me or my sister. We're not royalty, probably never really were, and we won't become royalty now. People can either follow our cause, _**our cause,**_" he added, hard steel threading its way through his words, "or sit it out."

Toshiro had to struggle not to roll his eyes. "Look, Zuk, I get it, I really do. A lot of us do. But the thing is, people need their symbols-"

"What," Zuko cut in, "like this flag I'm suddenly seeing everywhere? Where did that come from?"

Toshiro smiled. "It's actually a rather old flag, or, at least, that's what I was told."

"Pretty basic, don't you think? Just a red circle on a plain white field?"

"What can I say? Simplicity is best. But, I like it, you know? How it shows that we're not the land of the Fire Lords, not the land of tyranny and fire. We're the _Land of the Rising Sun, _with a bright future, full of hope and change."

Zuko made no attempt to hide his laughter. "Been rehearsing that bit, have we?"

Toshiro put on an innocent expression. "Hey, a good line is a good line, even if it comes from some batty old powerless king in Omashu."

"The Bumi guy, right?"

"The very one."

"Hmm…you know…I'm not sure how I feel about this _Order of the White Lotus _thing. I don't like the idea of some _shadowy ancient secret society _manipulating things from behind the scenes."

To that, Toshiro could only shrug; after all, Zuko had a point. "It is what it is, Zuk. We have to take help where we can get it."

Zuko sighed. "Yeah, I suppose so…still…"

"Yeah…" Toshiro took a deep breath, trying not to let it turn into a _gulp. _"Look, that's not why I came out here. I mean, maybe partly, but mostly…it's like I said in the beginning. How're you holding up?"

It was a long time before Zuko answered. He had time to finish a cigarette, and get a good start on a new one. In all that time, he said not a word, just stared off into the horizon, looking for what, Toshiro couldn't even begin to guess.

When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with pain, his words choked and clouded in sorrow. But for all that, his good eye blazed, full of anger and sadness and regret and, Toshiro couldn't help but notice, _pride._

"I'm…I'm sad, I'm not going to lie. That was…Zula and I…we were so looking forward to seeing her again. That's all we talked about sometimes, on the trip over. Zula had this big speech planned, this big reconciliation, and Katara was so excited to meet her, and…my mother would've really liked her, you know? But…but the thing is…I'm proud. She did what she had to do, _for us, _and she faced the music with pride and dignity. That's…not a lot of people get that, you know? But…but she did, and…"

He took a final breath, let it out.

"I still miss my mom, though…I really wanted to see her again…"

Toshiro reached out, laid a hand gently on his friend's shoulder. "I know. If it helps, your uncle made sure everything went as it should. She died the way she lived, the best of our nation's nobility."

Zuko nodded, and smiled. "Yeah, she did…and now," he turned his gaze, towards the northwest, his eye blazing out across the sea…

_Towards Miyako…_

"Now," he finished, his grip on his wine glass beginning to resemble a fist, "we finish this, once and for all, one way or the other. We're not going to stop, not me, not Katara, not Azula, until it's over, and our mother's ashes are with us, where they belong, not in that rat's nest that she hated."

To that, Toshiro could only nod. "Word, Zuk. Word."

* * *

Little bit of an info dump there, but also a lot of plot. Man...Toshiro really does end up being _Mr. Exposition _sometimes, doesn't he? Sorry, dude; it's a dirty job, but, as Mike Rowe always says, _someone's gotta do it. _And say what you will, but Toshiro tends to do it with a bit of class.

..._phrasing..._

Anyways, that one pretty much speaks for itself. The only extra would be to comment on how Zuko and Azula respond to the news about their mother's death, but...I'm going to get into that pretty soon. In the mean time...

Moving on! In the next chapter, Sokka has a brilliant idea, which, as usual, is cause for concern. Stay tuned!


	80. SOKKA VI

SOKKA

"ALRIGHT, LET ME SEE IF I'VE GOT THIS RIGHT, AND IF I HAVEN'T, PLEASE, FEEL FREE TO STEP IN AND STOP ME."

Sokka paused, cast a glance around the room. It was just the five of them, gathered in a rough circle around a map of the Inner City spread over the floor, the air thick with cigarette smoke, the aroma of strong tea, and a leaden, pungent silence. All eyes were on him, even Lobsang's, who had just finished telling them the plan for taking the Inner City. Even Toph seemed honed in on him, not at all distracted by the fact that, since the conversation was being held in Guangzhou, she had to translate for Asami.

He took a deep breath, let it out, looking down on them. He was the only one standing, and everyone seemed perfectly okay with that.

_Show time._

"So," he began, one hand clutched in a fist against the small of his back, the other flapping wildly around, what his sister had always referred to as his _Sokka's the Smartest Guy in the Room _stance, "it seems that, in a few days, the Earth Kingdom forces in the city are going to storm the…well…_Inner City. _At the same time, Zuko and Azula's idiot uncle has been spotted coming up from the southeast with a rather impressive-looking army. Thus, the forces outside the city, Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation and Air Nomad and any one else who feels like wandering by, are re-positioning themselves to resist this attack. At the same time, Northern Water Tribe troops are rushing up from the sea, as fast as they can, while my own people are trying to pin down as many troops as they can along the southern coast. Have I missed anything so far?"

Lobsang shook his head, smiling around his pipe. "No, young man, you have not."

"Though," Suki observed, "I have to admit, it's impressive that you haven't thrown in a single _fuck._"

"Hey now," Toph cut in, scoffing around the cigarettes she seemed to be smoking far too much of these days, "inhuman levels of foul language is _my _fucking thing, missy." To her side, Asami giggled and said something in Nihongo, to which Toph said something that turned the giggles into laughter. Turning back to the group, Toph said, "Oh, and Asami's basically all, _I know, right?_" She snapped her fingers at Sokka. "Pray continue, Lord Snoozles."

Sokka rolled his eyes. "_Right. _Anyways, _as I was saying, _that's basically the plan, only, I see one major, glaring issue with it, namely, _the fuck are we supposed to do?"_

"And the hell is Korra going to be doing during all of this?" Suki said, which provoked a laugh from Toph. "What? What did I say?"

Toph jerked a thumb at Asami. "Asami pretty much just said the same gods-damn thing, practically word-for-fucking-word."

Suki giggled. "What can I say? Great minds think alike. But, really, Lobsang, what's with Korra? What's her role?"

Lobsang sighed and opened his mouth to answer, but Toph cut in before he could. "She's the Avatar," she said, eyes falling to the ground, the life draining from her voice. "The matter of Long Feng and the Dai Li in the Inner City is…well…it's an internal Earth Kingdom matter, isn't it? Not Avatar business at all." Asami said something, laying a gentle hand on Toph's shoulder, and Toph shrugged and said something back that sounded a lot like, _Yeah, I know, right?_

Suki huffed and crossed her arms. "That's fucking bullshit, pardon my language."

Lobsang shrugged, though Sokka couldn't help but notice that the man wasn't looking quite so serene these days. "As much as I hate to admit it, I'm afraid you have a point, my dear. That said…she _is _the Avatar. Only she can decide such matters. And, as for you all…" His mouth twisted up into a grimace. "I'm afraid your job is to sit here and do nothing."

Through all of this, Sokka kept his eyes glued to Toph. There was nothing about what he saw that he liked. The girl, a newly-minted eighteen-year-old, looked, for the first time since they found out about her parents, well…_small. _She seemed lost, adrift, untethered from reality. And her eyes…sure, they'd never looked exactly _alive, _but never, in all the time Sokka had known her, had they looked, well…

_Dead…_

_ Except for now._

He glared, and slammed a fist into a palm. _Yeah, I'm going to go ahead and say __**no **__to all that, thank you very much._

"Fuck that."

Lobsang looked up and blinked. "Come again?"

"You heard me: _Fuck. That. Shit._" He spread his arms wide, and did nothing to hide the disgust on his face. "Fine, Korra wants to become the fucking _Avatar _and sit on a high hill, preparing for the Fire Lord? _Fine. _But like _hell _are we going to sit this one out. And nevermind that this _plan,_" and here, he made air quotes around the word, because his sister wasn't here, and thus couldn't bop him upside the head for it, "is completely _fucked._"

Suki let out a cheer. "_There's _the Sokka I dropped my panties for."

"Hey now," Asami said through Toph, "he's taken."

"Like that's ever stopped you from scoping out his butt," Suki replied with a smile.

"Can you blame her?" Sokka replied, turning and showing off the butt in question. "I mean, look at this thing."

"Meh," Toph replied, stubbing out her old cigarette and lighting a new one by touching the tip to a hot coal from a nearby brazier, "I can't see anything special about it."

Sokka rolled his eyes. "Oh, we're back to _that, _now, are we? I've never _once _fallen for that crap, girl, and I'm not about to start."

Toph shrugged, and, just for a moment, the spark returned to her eyes. "Hey, there's always a first time."

Sokka saw that spark, looked around the room, into each of his friend's eyes, and saw it there, too. He'd never needed much encouragement to craft a hare-brained scheme, but that spark…

_That's all the encouragement I need._

"Right." He fell to his knees, rubbing his chin as he ran his eyes over the map. "Toph, I vaguely remember you telling me about how the Emperors never really trusted their people."

"How could they?" Suki replied. "You know how many have barely survived peasant revolts? We've had almost as many civil wars as the Fire Nation."

Through Toph, Asami said, "That, I doubt. But I think I see where Sokka is going."

Sokka grinned. "At least somebody does. So, if I'm an Emperor, I don't really like my people, and my people don't really like me, am I really going to shut myself up in my Palace if shit goes south?"

Beside him, Lobsang was nodding, his old serene smile back on his face. "You think there might be a way into the Inner City without having to go through the walls."

"_Exactly. _What do you guys think?"

Suki shrugged. "There have been rumors about catacombs beneath the Inner City…"

"The Crystal Catacombs, right?" Toph asked.

Suki nodded. "Right. Asami?"

Through Toph, Asami said, "Well, Azula always told me that there were secret passages beneath the Palace in Miyako, that led in and out of the city, so that the Royal Family could make a quick escape if they had to. Lots of nobles back home have similar set-ups. If that's the case in my country…"

"Then it has to be the case here," Sokka finished. "And, correct me if I'm wrong, but Long Feng doesn't seem the kind of guy not to keep at least a few of those open."

"I don't know," Suki said, frowning. "Even if we could find out where they were and where they led, how can this help us? Even if Long Feng hasn't sealed all but a few, no way we'd be able to sneak an army in there."

Toph gasped, warming Sokka's heart as he saw his favorite earthbender come back to the world of the living. "But we don't have to, do we? Just the four of us, go in around the time of the attack…we take out Long Feng and this, what's her face, the bitch in charge of the Dai Li right now-"

"Cheng, I believe her name is," Lobsang explained. "Cheng Kuvira."

Toph nodded. "Right, that bitch. Anyways, we take them out-"

"And the Dai Li will fall apart," Suki finished.

Sokka smiled. "Damn straight. And who better to do this than four of the craziest assholes on the planet?"

"Five," Lobsang added. "You forgot me."

Sokka shook his head. "I'm afraid I didn't. They see you, they'll assume the Avatar's with us, and we need them looking up and out for her, instead of down and in for us."

Lobsang nodded. "In other words, you need me to perform a diversion."

"Damn straight," Sokka said.

Lobsang's smile grew ever wider. "I think I can do that."

Meanwhile, Asami was poking Toph in the arm, babbling wildly in Nihongo. After batting the girl off, Toph said, "Alright, alright! Asami's in this, too, right?"

Suki scoffed, in a decidedly Toph-like way. "Hell yeah she is. What does she think, that I'm going to miss the chance to see all that training I've put her through go to waste? _Please._"

Toph translated that back to Asami, who squealed and threw everyone a thumbs-up.

Sokka stood, balled fists resting on his hips. "So, we're all agreed. Screw sitting this out; we're the Krew, whether Korra's here or not."

"Fuckin' A," Toph said, a sentiment Asami seemed to endorse.

"Word," Suki said.

"I'm with you young ones all the way," was Lobsang's opinion.

Before Sokka could say anything else, Suki raised a hand. "Wait…how're we supposed to find these ways in?"

Sokka basked in a moment of self-adoration, because he was way ahead of her, and, hey, it wasn't like his sister or his girlfriend were there to pop his bubble. "As to that, I sure hope everybody got a good night's sleep, because you won't be getting any anytime soon." He rounded on Lobsang, who was already rising to his feet, along with everybody else. "Speaking of which…think we can get a ride into town?"

Lobsang smothered the fire in the bowl of his pipe and dropped it into his pocket. "Does the Lady Bei Fong swear more than a drunken sailor who just stubbed his toe?"

Sokka laughed. "Sweet."

As they piled onto Lobsang's air bison, Sokka cast one last look to the darkening sky. He looked, first, to the west, towards his sister, his brother-in-law, Azula, and wished them well, and all the best. Then, he turned to the south, and sent prayers to his father, and beyond that, to his mother and his people.

And finally, last but not least, he looked towards the center of the camp, and did his best to smile.

_I know you're in there, Korra, deep down inside. We didn't come all this way, do so much, __**lose so much, **__only to see you swallowed by your title. We're better than that. __**You're better than that.**_

_And when the day comes to take the Inner City back, we're going to show you, show you that we're still here for you, because we still believe in you._

_**Always.**_

Then he vaulted himself into the saddle, and they were off.

* * *

At one point, Lady Kaelyn observed that I hadn't had nearly enough _Sokka the Meat-and-Sarcasm Guy _in this fic. Over the next few chapters, I hope to rectify that. Thus, I present to you _Lord Snoozles, He of the So-Crazy-They're-Brilliant Plans and Lots of Dry Wit. _Hope you enjoy.

For those playing the home game, I would like to give credit for the rest of my inspiration to the ATLA episode _Bitter Work, _and Sokka's deadpan, utterly perfect delivery of the line, _Well, I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable. _That shit was off the _hook._

It would be interesting, I think, to take a moment and think about how, when this whole journey began (prior to the start of Book One), several of the Krew might've been looking forward to when Korra became a fully realized Avatar. Thing is...they don't believe in the Avatar anymore. Who would? The world forgot what the Avatar was like, and many aren't enjoying what they're seeing. But just because the Krew no longer believes in the Avatar, they will never, _ever, _stop believing in Korra.

And that's why they're going to keep fighting.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Song chats up Katara. Stay tuned!


	81. SONG I

SONG

THE SECOND AZULA STEPPED OUT OF THE ROOM TO GO SEE WHY IT WAS TAKING THE BOYS SO LONG TO COME BACK FROM OUTSIDE, SONG TURNED TO KATARA. She had seen the disquiet growing in the eyes of her friend, the way she seemed on edge, a bit bewildered and confused. A soft smile on her face, she reached out, laid a hand on Katara's arm. Not for the first time, she found herself marveling at the contrast, how pale her skin seemed next to that of the girl from the bottom of the world. _And to think, my new sisters-in-law think the same thing about me! Just wait until they get a good look at Katara!_

"Are you alright, my dear?" she asked.

Katara nodded, frowning as she took a sip of her wine. "I…yeah, I am. I guess I'm just…" She sighed, gave an awkward, flustered shrug. "I guess I'm just a little unsettled, is all."

Song gave her friend's arm a squeeze, then leaned back. "I understand."

Katara rounded on her, eyes wide. Song loved her friend's eyes. They were just so blue, so big, so…_exotic. _

_The people are going to love you, girl, just you wait._

Katara's frown deepened. "You…do…?"

Song sighed, re-filling her wine glass. "Of course I do. I'm just a bit more used to the Fire Nation than you are. It's the way Zuko and Azula responded to the news about their mother, isn't it?"

Katara sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Yes…it is…I mean, I keep meaning to ask Zuko about it, but…I can't think of a way that will sound…right…" She huffed, and began nibbling her lip. "It's just…I mean…shouldn't they have had, well…_more of a reaction? _They just found out that their mother killed their father, and then killed herself, and they seemed almost…well…_proud._" She made a face, as if that last word had been made of something bitter and foul-tasting. "How does that make sense?"

Song shook her head and clucked her tongue. "It doesn't, at least, not to us. It makes perfect sense to them. You know what _seppuku _is, right?"

Something cold and distant flickered deep in Katara's eyes, something that the girl quickly pushed away with a flick of her fingers through her hair. "Kind of…I've…I've seen it done, actually…it's…horrible…"

"Not to those of the Fire Nation. Did you know that, here, those who are noble-born are actually trained, from a very young age, how to commit ritual suicide?"

To that, Katara looked a bit queasy. "Zuko's told me a little about that…I never knew what to make of it, though."

"Who does? I barely understand it myself. What it comes down to, for them, is that their mother, who was a scion of some of the highest, purest nobility in the land, endured years of abuse at the hands of her husband, but in the end, regained her honor and her dignity by striking back and not shirking the consequences. And, when it came time to die, she went by her own hand, as a true daughter of the Fire Nation should, when called upon."

Katara grimaced into her wine. "Yeah…but see…I can't help but see that as…well…_barbaric…_"

Song acknowledged that with a shrug. "Well, to us, it is. Then again, before the Fall, the nobility of my people practiced foot binding, and rumor has it that the sandbending tribes out in the Si Wong Desert still practice circumcision, both male and female, no matter how much both the Fire Lords, and the Earth Emperors before them, have tried to stamp it out."

Katara went almost pale at that. "By the gods…_seriously? _People actually _do that?"_

"People do all sorts of things. Surely there's something your people do that seems primitive and barbaric to outsiders."

That brought a chuckle from Katara. "Yeah…you should've seen Zuko's face, when I pointed at a picture of a penguin-seal in a book and told him how we hunt them. It wasn't until then that I realized that other people in the world consider those animals to be too cute and cuddly to hunt as we do."

Song reached into the depths of her mind, and called forth a random tidbit she had once heard. "Don't your people also hunt the pups?"

"Well, yeah," Katara said, in a voice that all but shouted, _Well, duh. _"There are certain ceremonies that require the meat and/or skin of the pups."

"And how did your husband react when you told him this?"

"Heh…he turned kind of green and dropped the subject as quickly as he could."

Song nodded. "Well, there you go. If there's anything I've learned over the years, through a childhood of watching armies march back-and-forth over my land, seeing the people get mixed and mingled together, it's that everybody is weird in some way to somebody else. You just came up against the peculiar Fire Nation idea of honor."

Katara rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Ugh. _That word. _You ever feel like they're obsessed with it?"

Song giggled. "Oh, _gods _yes. It's _absurd _sometimes. There are days I feel like if I hear that word _one more time, _I'm going to _burst._"

"Tell me about it." Katara tipped her glass back, and took a nice big, gulp. "Though, when you think about it…that idea of honor is what this whole revolution is about."

_That _was definitely something Song had not paused to consider. She chewed on it for a moment, rolling a gulp of wine around in her mouth before swallowing. "How do you mean?"

"Well, think about it. The Fire Nation is obsessed with their honor, and they feel that their honor, their sense of pride and dignity as a people and a nation, has been stripped from them by the Fire Lords, the very people who are supposed to…well…_not do that. _And thus, finally, they've had enough, and they're taking it back."

"You know…I never thought about it like that…"

"I pretty much just put it all together just now, to be honest." Katara giggled, leaned in close, and whispered, "Don't tell Zuko, though. I'm totally going to pretend I knew it all along."

Song slipped her arm through Katara's and smiled. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"Good! You keep my secret, and, well…" Katara looked over her shoulders, glanced back towards the door to the balcony, then leaned in even closer. _"And I'll keep yours." _And with that, she pointed a finger at Song's stomach.

Without even thinking about it, Song's hand flew to her stomach, and felt her heart speed up even as the blood drained from her face. "How do you…I mean…" She checked for eaves-droppers, then leaned even closer in. _"How did you know?"_

Katara rolled her eyes. "_Please. _You know how many babies I've delivered in my time? _I know. _I guess you haven't told Toshiro yet?"

Song felt the blood rush back into her face, and knew she was blushing like a virgin bride. "Yes, well…_no, _because, well…I _kind of _have a…you know…_plan…"_

Katara laughed. "Oh, this I just _have _to hear."

"Alright, well, you see, Toshiro's sisters are, like, mad geniuses, and they started to plot this when they went to the doctor with me. So…"

Not long after that, Azula came back in, rolling her eyes and making jerk-off motions towards the outside. Katara and Song burst into hysterics at that, then, naturally, brought Azula into the conspiracy.

To say that Toshiro was floored when the trap was sprung the next day would be doing the phrase a disservice. Zuko, naturally, thought it was hysterical. Song let him laugh, because she knew from a talk with Katara that, someday, his time would come, too.

It really was a nice, sweet moment of unbridled happiness and raucous laughter. Song held the warm feeling it gave her close to her heart as she stood on the balcony of Sapporo's city hall, not a day later, watching them all disappear into the distance.

* * *

I always like moments of values dissonance. No matter where you go, there is always something that you do that seems weird to someone else, and vice versa. For example, back when I used to sub an ESL (English-as-a-Second-Language, for those who don't speak Teacherese) class, I asked the kids, _What's the weirdest thing that Americans do? _I expected some of the stuff (for example, to people from Asia, we're extremely loud and far too upfront about things), but one thing I didn't expect was to be told, in essence, that the way we say, _Hey, what's up? _and sundry other forms of the phrase is odd. In most countries, when you ask how someone is doing, it's expected to be an honest question, and treated as such. Here, saying, _Hey, you, how're things going? _is, quite literally, just a polite way of saying hello. Even people who have been here a while still find the phrase a bit rude and rather personal.

Weird how things look from the outside, isn't it? Personally, I love it. That's what this chapter was about.

That's all for today, ladies and gentlemen! I hope you've been enjoying yourselves, because we're about to get things into high gear. Speaking of which...

Moving on! In the next chapter, Long Feng thinks. Stay tuned!


	82. THE CHANCELLOR III

THE CHANCELLOR

FOR ALL THAT THE EMPERORS HAD, BY AND LARGE, BEEN A FOOLISH AND INEFFECTUAL LOT, LONG FENG HAD TO ADMIT THAT THEY KNEW HOW TO BUILD A THRONE ROOM. It really was a marvelous place, finely crafted by the most skilled and talented masons and earthbenders that could be found anywhere on the planet. Walls and pillars of stone and wood and marble, in a thousand-thousand shades of green and brown, threaded through with gold, the floors polished until one could almost see one's own reflection in them. And the layout… Long Feng nodded, and smiled. The layout in particular he admired, in the way that it seemed massive, the personification of power, and yet somehow seemed to narrow in on one point, at the far end, to make clear from whence that power came.

He ran his hand along an armrest. _The Jade Throne. Crafted from a single massive piece of the purest jade. _He chuckled. _Or so the stories went. And what did the truth matter? It was the story that was important._

He frowned. _So long as people believed in it…_

"Did you ever get the chance to know Kuei?" he asked.

He could almost _hear _Kuvira frown from behind him. "My lord?" she asked, not bothering to hide her confusion. _She doesn't even try to conceal the faint hint of disapproval. She came here to ask what we should do, should the Avatar commit themselves to the assault we would have to be blind and deaf to not see coming._

He sighed. _And here I am, petting a throne, talking of long-dead Emperors…_

"Kuei," he said, removing his hand and stepping back to truly appreciate the artistic marvel before him. "The last fool to sit in this impressively gaudy chair."

He turned around just in time to see Kuvira finish shaking her head. "I can't say that I did, my lord. At least, not in the way you knew him."

He clucked his tongue against as the top of his mouth. "You know, I rather liked him, as a matter of fact. He was a fool, to be sure, far too trusting for his own good, but he had a good heart. A bookish sort of man, to be perfectly honest, not at all suited to any kind of position of power."

"That was what I have been given to understand, my lord."

Long Feng turned back to the throne. "You were still down in the Lower Ring, were you not? When the Fall came."

"I was, my lord. I commanded the entire southern quadrant, as you well know."

He chuckled. "I should; I was the one who put you there. You know what he said to me, before I turned him over to the current Fire Lord?"

"You've often threatened to tell me, my lord."

"Heh…I have, haven't I?" Long Feng closed his eyes, and, for a moment, it was like none of the intervening years had ever happened. He was standing before Kuei, the young man on his knees before him, blood dribbling from a busted lip, one Imperial eye swollen shut. _You should not have struggled, Oh Holy and Exalted Son of Heaven. _He had been holding Kuei's shattered glasses in his hand, marveling at how the so-called _Son of Heaven _could have been in possession of such plain and common frames. _It would have gone much easier on you._

_ And then…_

"He spit on the floor, right between my feet, and told me that my triumph was but a temporary one, and that the gods would see to my punishment."

"Defiant to the end, then, my lord."

He nodded. "Yes, indeed he was. I can't fault him for that, as silly and pointless as it was." He opened his eyes, and turned back to Kuvira. "I never did see the point of defiance after one's defeat was assured. Do you, Commander Cheng?"

Her face remained as blank and impassive as ever; it was one of the qualities that he respected most about her. "When the fall is all there is, the way one falls matters a great deal. At least, so I have always believed."

He mulled that over for a moment, rolling it around on his tongue. He wasn't sure he liked the taste of it, but he had to admit that it had a certain…_poetry, _to it. _A ghastly sort of poetry, to be sure, but then again, when Heibei Wuchang comes to guide us to the underworld, what other sort is there? Though, _he concluded, _I can't imagine that when I stand before Yanluo and await his judgment, he will care one bit how I fell down to him._

Finally, he felt, it was time to stop ruminating on the Lord of Death, and speak.

"Kuvira," he said, "whether the Avatar herself enters the fray, when the time comes, or does not, is no matter. Either she will, or she won't. Our only task is to resist, for as long as possible. The plan remains the same."

She nodded, and he watched as her eyes seemed to fill with fire and steel. "Hold out until the Fire Lord relieves us, or until our enemies offer a negotiated settlement."

"Precisely. If the latter option occurs, I trust you are ready to throw me to the wolves in order to maintain your own position."

A predatory smile creased her lips. "I have been preparing for that day since the moment you brought me into the Dai Li, my lord."

He laughed. "Of that, I have no doubt. It's why I chose you in the first place. You are the only person I have ever met who would I not mind being beaten by."

She gave him a shallow bow, in which he could not help but detect a hint of mockery. "I will take that as a compliment."

"Heh…you should, my dear, you should." He turned, once more facing the throne. "When the battle comes, you will have complete control; do not bother running things by me. Do you what you do best, Commander."

"I have already made the necessary preparations."

He smiled. "Naturally."

"Where will I find you, my lord, should I need you?"

_Where will I find you, my lord, should I need to plunge a dagger into your heart in order to begin worming my way into a new place in a new world?_

"Right here, my dear, in this very throne room."

"Naturally, my lord."

"You are dismissed, Kuvira."

He heard armor bend and creak as she bowed. "Thank you, my lord. Good day." There came to him a sound of polished boots clipping across polished floors, an opening and closing of doors, and then…

_Silence…_

In the stillness that followed, he took a deep, calming breath, and then slowly, carefully, settled himself upon the Jade Throne. He had never done this before, but had always wanted to. Now that he was there, he felt…

_Hmph. Just another damn chair. _He felt a vague sense of disappointment, but nothing stronger than that.

_And besides, _he thought, looking around, _there are worse ways to meet my end._

_ Though, _he concluded, as he took out his pipe and began to prepare it, _should anyone but Kuvira come to send me down into the Halls of the Dead, they shall rue the day they dared._

* * *

Good morning! So, what's Long Feng's game plan here? Simple, really, in that he has three options: 1. Hope the Fire Lord gets to them, in which case it'll be business as usual. 2. Resist until internal dissension within the rebel camp forces them to seek a negotiated settlement, a situation he would be able to twist to his advantage, and in which his biggest worry would be Kuvira. 3. Die. Pretty simple, really.

Long Feng never struck me as someone who would shy away from the possibility of defeat. I mean, look at how he took his defeat by Azula on the chin in Canon.

I think that's really all that needs to be said, really. Moving on!

In the next chapter, an old man is surprised by who's at his door. Stay tuned!


	83. THE OLD MAN

THE OLD MAN

THE OLD MAN WAS EXPECTING A LOT OF THINGS WHEN HE OPENED HIS DOOR AT THE CRACK OF DAWN. He was, after all, a very old man, and had seen a lot, and he clutched a faint hope, deep in his heart, and his grandsons were among the young rebels pouring into the city. He knew it was silly to think that not only would they happen to be there, but that they would have time to come look for their wizened old grandfather, but he believed quite strongly that it is the right of the very old and the very young to have foolish hopes.

Thus, to say that he was surprised to open the door and find two young women, one whom he knew, but one obviously Fire Nation, would be something of an understatement.

He blinked, trying to gather his thoughts. "Um…good morning, young ladies."

They both bowed, very proper, very polite, far more than an old retired servant such as himself deserved. _Not that he didn't appreciate the gesture. _The one he knew, a young native of the city with her dark brown hair in a slightly crazed bun, rose and smiled.

"Good morning, Qiao-zhang," she said. "I don't know if you remember me…"

Finally coming to his senses, he returned their bows. "Of course I remember you. You're Ruolan's daughter, Jin." He turned to the other girl. "I'm afraid I don't know your friend, though…"

The girl in question gave a quick, shallow bow, before speaking in almost hilariously proper Putonghua of the kind he hadn't heard in years. _Not since my days working in the Inner City…_ "Greetings, Qiao-zhang. I'm Sato Asami, a friend of the Avatar." She gave a quick dip of her head. "I beg of you, please don't hold my heritage against me."

The old man chuckled. "Well, if you're a friend of this young lady's, and a friend of the Avatar's, then who am I to hold anything against you?" He dipped his head, then turned to address them both. "Would you two like some tea, maybe a snack?"

It was Jin who answered, shaking her head. "I'm afraid we don't have the time, Qiao-zhang. We're in a bit of a rush."

He sighed. "Everyone's in a rush, these days. Oh, well, I suppose it can't be helped. What can I do for you two young ladies today?"

This time, it was the Fire Nation girl, _Asami, _if he remembered her name right, who answered. "Jin here has told me that you once worked in the Inner City, correct?"

He nodded. "I did, at least before the Fall."

"And, if I might ask, what was your job there?"

For a moment, he almost didn't answer. His job had been secret, _very secret, _and old habits died hard. Still… _The Emperor is dead, may He rest forever in the company of His ancestors, and times, they do change, don't they? _Frowning as he spoke, he said, "As it happens, I am an earthbender. My job was to maintain the catacombs beneath the Inner City."

The girls gave each other an excited look, before turning back to him. "Do you happen to remember those tunnels, Qiao-zhang?"

He laughed, taking a moment to revel in the attention, as he believed was an old man's right. "Of course! Maps couldn't be made, for obvious reasons, so we had to memorize the lay-out. Heh…you know…" And here, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "As it happens…when the Fall came, most of us left the Inner City. Living on the streets would've been preferable to serving that bastard Long Feng." He spat on the ground to make his point.

The young ladies seemed to whole-heartedly agree. Leaning towards him, the girl called Asami said, in the same conspiratorial whisper, "So, you're saying that Long Feng and his ilk might not know all the passages in and out?"

He shrugged. "That, I can't swear to. Still…get me a map, and I'll tell you want I'm guessing you need to know."

The girls just about did a little dance, right there on his doorstep. He leaned back and basked in the warmth of their youthful enthusiasm. _Ah, _he thought, _to be young again, and look at the future with bright, happy eyes…_

Calming themselves with difficulty, the girl called Asami bowed once more. "A thousand thanks, Qiao-zhang. Would you be willing to come with us, and share your knowledge with my friends?"

He didn't even have to think about it. "Just give me a moment to get my cloak."

Later, when he finally managed to see his grandsons again, they would ask him about this meeting, and he would tell them that he liked the young ladies, and their friends. Sure, that blind girl was _far _too profane for someone of her upbringing, and he spent much of the encounter wishing the dark-skinned boy would stop fidgeting, but their hearts were in the right place, and that was all that really counted, wasn't it?

* * *

Sokka's plan is coming to fruition, ladies and gentlemen. As for the secret tunnels (*hums the proper tune*), why doesn't Long Feng know about them? Odds are, he totally does, though even he can't know everything, and if anyone would know about one or two he might have missed, it would be one of the old servants who used to maintain them. And even if most of those tunnels have been sealed off, well...that's where Toph comes in, isn't it?

Moving on! In the next chapter, Katara reads a letter. Stay tuned!


	84. KATARA V

KATARA

SHE LEANED HER FOREARMS UPON THE RAILING, ROLLING HER WEIGHT WITH THE SWAYING OF THE SHIP, AND MARVELED AT THE SUNSET. Katara's time in the Fire Nation had been brief, and her view of it limited, but even what little she had seen made her feel confident in feeling that it was a beautiful country. It was a land of jagged mountains marching off into the distance, their slopes blanketed with trees that rippled in the wind like waves on the sea. It was a land that seemed both burnt and nourished by the sun, a place of extremes, of smoldering volcanoes and rolling plains. Just traveling around Sapporo had exposed her to terraced rice fields that seemed sliced out of the hills, to the beat of _taiko _drums and the trilling of _shinobue _flutes. It was all so very different from her own homeland, so much so that sometimes her head hurt just thinking about it.

_And yet, _she thought, sighing, reveling in the warm breeze brushing her skin, relishing the pleasant tingle of being surrounded by her element, _it's all so much the same. Children still run and laugh in the streets, old men and old women bicker and gossip, teenagers make eyes at each other behind their parents' backs, mothers weep for their sons, fathers pretend that they don't weep right along with them…_

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, tasted the salt of the ocean on her lips, took the musky scent of the sea into her heart and used it to soothe her soul.

_ We're all just people, in the end. Some of us are good, some of us are bad, and most of us just try to do the best that we can._

She opened her eyes, and cast them down at the letter that was clutched in her hand.

_None of which helps me deal with this…this…this __**thing…**_

There had been a whole stack of letters waiting for them in Sapporo, ferried across the sea from Yu Dao by the Air Nomads who, from what she could see, were running themselves ragged, hurtling from corner of the globe to another. At first, she had been ecstatic, especially when she saw who they were from. There were letters from Sokka, written in his lazy, scrawling hand, one from Suki, whose penmanship really was exquisite, even one that Toph had apparently made Asami write it out for her. A letter from her mother had made her cry like a baby, and a letter from her father had made her do the same, even though it made her wince.

_ I mean, _she had said to Azula when she read it, _it's nice to know how proud he is of me, but…does he have to keep bringing up Nanook? Or, for that matter, did he just __**have **__to devote an entire paragraph to detailing every single eligible bachelor on his ship? _Azula, for her part, had rolled her eyes, and begun reading aloud from one of her letters from Sokka, which soon reduced them both to helpless laughter.

_And then, _she continued, tightening her grip on the letter in her hand, _there's…_

_**This…**_

It was from Korra. It was the _only _letter from Korra, the only thing she had received from the girl since her polite but ice cold little message telling Katara that it was okay to go straight to the Fire Nation. On the surface, to someone who didn't read Inuktitut, it seemed fairly innocuous. The handwriting was careful, tight, nervous, speaking of someone who still wasn't quite comfortable with being literate. The letters themselves had been painstakingly drawn, and it began and ended as all letters should.

It was the letter itself that made Katara's heart fall into the pit of her stomach.

For the thousandth time, the ten-thousandth, _the hundred-thousandth, _she had lost count long since, she opened the letter, spread it out, ran it back and forth over the railing in a pointless effort to smooth out the crinkles from those thousand-thousand readings. She read it once more, why, she didn't know.

The words were already etched deep into her soul.

_Mom,_

_ Please forgive me. I'm so sorry._

_ I love you forever and for always._

_ Korra_

Her eyes burned, years of fear and frustration threatening to burst out and pour down her cheeks. Her body trembled, and she wrapped herself up tight in her arms. She missed her husband, missed him with a strength and a pain that no words could ever hope to describe. She wanted to go back to her cabin, find him sprawled on their bed, smoking his cigarettes, smiling that smile of his, marvel at the way that he never tried to hide his scar from her, as he did with so many others, even when he didn't know it. She wanted to hurl herself into his arms and breathe him in and cry her heart out.

But she couldn't. Not yet. He had his mission, and she and her sister-in-law had theirs. Until then, she would hold her fears close, hold them tight.

She would not hide from them. That was something she had never done, and never would.

She looked up, off into the sunset, into the west. She didn't look east. She couldn't.

Somewhere back there, her brother fought on, her brother and Suki and Asami and Toph and Lobsang and all the others, tens-of-thousands of men and women and boys and girls, fighting and dying for the chance to live in a new world, to forge a new future.

But somehow, she couldn't help but think that her greatest fear had finally come true, that Korra was gone.

_That only the Avatar remained._

The ship went on, ever forward, and she went with it. She never turned back, never even thought of it. How could she? The world needed her, her and people like her.

_And I have never turned my back on those who need me._

She crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the sea.

_Not even you, Korra. No matter how far you fall into that __**thing **__that was thrust upon you, I will never turn my back on you. I'll come for you, and I'll pull you out and into the light._

_ Even if I have to drown the world to do it._

_ And don't think I won't, missy. I made a god blink once, don't think I won't do it to an Avatar._

She turned, looked to the princess that leaned on the railing beside her. Azula had her eyes closed, her face lifted up, the sunlight falling fully upon her face. Her sister-in-law looked beautiful, serene, her jet black hair unbound, flying loose and free in the wind. On a sudden impulse, Katara jabbed the girl in the arm, to which Azula responded by giggling and jabbing her back. Then Katara threaded her arm through Azula's, mirrored her pose, and, together, they faced the future.

_And don't you dare think I'm going to be alone this time, either._

_ Because I don't believe in the Avatar, Korra._

_ But I still believe in __**you.**_

* * *

_Mama Katara _is awake, and very, very angry. Don't screw with Mama Katara, ladies and gentlemen.

Also, I believe we should all take a moment and doff our caps to poor old Hakoda, who really has no idea. It makes sense, really; his son had to get it from _somewhere._

That chapter really speaks for itself. Moving on!

In the next chapter, Bolin sees something rather beautiful. Stay tuned!


	85. BOLIN III

BOLIN

HE TRAMPED DOWN A ROAD THROUGH A HAZE OF DUST, AND WISHED HE COULD FLY. Flying had always been a dream of his, ever since he was a boy and his mother had first told him about the Air Nomads. He had even seen a few, here and there, throughout his life, from the occasional air bison groaning far up across the sky, to an isolated little village high up on a mountain to the north, so far away that flying was surely the only way one could get to it. Now though, he wanted to fly, not for philosophical reasons, or to cross one more item off his _bucket list, _but, rather, because the weather was warm and dry, and a couple thousand soldiers marching through the land tended to kick up a lot of dust.

He coughed, and cast a wistful look up towards the sky, where what looked like a veritable _fleet _of air bison was soaring over his head. _It doesn't help that there's so many up there, rubbing it in my face. _He chuckled, a chuckle that turned into yet another series of coughs. _I'll be pissing dust by the time this march is done, _he decided with a groan. _Pissing it and sweating it and-_

_ "GET OFF THE ROAD!"_

He turned, frowning, confused. Through the haze that hung in a thick cloud over the column, peering and leaning along with everybody else trying to find where the voice had come from, he spotted, to his eternal surprise, none other than Ming, trotting up from the rear on an ostrich-horse. For a brief, daft moment, he thought about waving and joining the chorus of bellowed curses and grumbled complaints, until Ming came close enough for Bolin to see that the guy was quite serious.

Ming trotted on, until he came even with Bolin himself. Standing up straight in his stirrups, he waved his arm out, as if he was trying to push the column off the road with sheer willpower. _Which, _Bolin thought, _wouldn't surprise me if he could pull it off. _Ming had always possessed, it seemed to Bolin, an incredible ability to construct his ideal reality through sheer obstinacy.

"Don't you idiots understand plain Putonghua?" Ming complained, looking remarkably like a child who'd just been told that he couldn't get the action figure he wanted. "Move to the side of the road. Keep marching, but _MOVE TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD!"_

The column seemed disinclined to budge, and Bolin felt that he had to agree, until he felt a subtle tremor run through the ground, and, sensing movement, he looked back to see that, slowly but surely, the rest of the column, stretching off into the dusty horizon, was moving to the side, pushed and shoved and cajoled by their officers. Bolin looked to his comrades, and together, they all shared a collective shrug before side-stepping themselves off the road and continuing their march.

The reason for the shift soon became readily apparent. The tremor beneath Bolin's feet turned from slight to continuous, before growing and growing until it was an actual _roar. _Cheers began to ripple up from the rear, and, craning his neck, he looked back as his unit crested a small hill to see the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed.

Coming up the road was a long line of Fire Nation tanks, fringed with scarlet-clad soldiers so that they looked like some bored god had sprinkled red dust all over them. The tanks rolled on, came level with Bolin, rolled past, on and on, dozens of them, sides covered with obscene messages, Fire Nation soldiers riding on top, trading shouts and laughs and curses with the foot-bound former rebels of the Earth Kingdom. The cheers grew into a cacophony, and Bolin added his voice to the rest, pumping his fist into the air and bellowing with all of his might.

There came another roar, nearly drowning out the din of the tanks and the cheers of the soldiers. Bolin looked up, and gasped along with everyone else, as he watched two mighty airships, broad white stripes painted along the sides, lumber through the air. Scarlet-and-black war balloons bobbed in their wakes, and air bison performed a strangely delicate-looking dance all about them.

Bolin shook his head, feeling a lot like he was in a dream. _Water Tribe coming up from the south, if the rumors are to be believed. Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation marching forward together. Air Nomads roaring through the skies._

He sighed, unable to stop smiling.

_Now, if I can just find Mako, this day will be perfect._

With that done, he muttered a prayer for good sense to finally find his brother, squared his shoulders, and marched on towards the southeast.

_Towards the Fire Lord._

* * *

The Fire Lord approaches, ladies and gentlemen. Iroh's got one last throw of the dice, and those who oppose him know it.

Shall we?

Moving on! In the next chapter, Jiro starts to get a bit wobbly. Stay tuned!


	86. JIRO VI

JIRO

"I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE HOW EASY IT ALL WAS."

Across the map table from him, Kojima looked up, looking, as usual, impassive, but vaguely amused, the ever-present cheap, Army-issue cigarette dangling from his lips. "Can't believe what was easy, my lord?"

Jiro rolled his eyes. They were alone, on opposite sides of a table over which was spread a detailed map of the coastline south of Miyako. The sounds of soldiers preparing for battle filtered in from outside, muffled by the thick walls of the tent. The light coming through the scarlet fabric gave Jiro's world a strange, ethereal blood-red glow, but he didn't let that bother him.

Instead, he focused on Kojima.

"Have you been listening at all, Kojima?"

Kojima shrugged, in that maddeningly bored manner of his. "I wasn't aware that there was anything to listen to, my lord."

Jiro glared, fighting hard against the fires that seemed to rage ever fiercer within his heart with every passing day. He was convinced that it was the power of the coming comet, his great-grandfather's comet, though everyone said that was impossible. He didn't care, not one bit, what others had to say, though. Let them prattle on about how the comet was _still several months away, _or their attempts to convince him that _even the most powerful firebender won't feel any effects more than a few weeks before it comes._

_ I know the truth. I'm obviously just more powerful than all of you. You don't have a destiny._

_ It's not __**your **__karma to rule the world._

_ It's __**mine.**_

He frowned, shook his head. _Where was I? _He was confused. He seemed to be confused more and more these days. It was strange; he had never been confused before. _Ever. _And his head hurt. Every morning, he woke with a piercing pain in his temples, his eyes feeling like they were wrapped in cotton. He felt…

_He felt…_

He closed his eyes, pinching his nose. The pain faded as the day went on, but it did so less and less, it seemed. Even now, there was a dull sensation, buried deep within his mind. He was sure he was just imagining it, that it was just stress, though that would be impossible, surely.

_I don't feel stress._

_ It is not in my nature to do so._

"My lord?"

He gave himself a shake, opened his eyes to look directly at Kojima. "Sorry, just a momentary headache. Where was I?"

Kojima shrugged, just as he always did, as if to say, _Here's a yen, go take it up with someone who cares. _"I believe you were saying how you still can't believe how easy it was."

Jiro snapped his fingers through the air. "Right! Because, it's true. I mean, I always knew that our great nation was led by weaklings and cowards; how else to explain the state things have fallen to? But the speed with which those fools latched on to my plan, the way they pushed aside Sugita, the force with which they ignored that prattling fool Kiyoshiro-"

"Well," Kojima pointed out, tapping some ash from his cigarette onto the floor, though Jiro wasn't entirely sure why, _it never seemed to get any shorter, _"I would imagine that the fact that the Crown Prince seemed inclined in your favor had something to do with it."

Jiro scoffed. "That half-dead waste of space had nothing to do with it. Did you see him? The Council obviously just needed someone to walk in and tell them what to do, and for said person to _look_ like they knew what to do. I mean, you saw my useless cousin. He just sat there and stared at his hands in his lap. I swear, at one point, he looked like he was asleep! They even threw in a promotion, the sniveling fools!" He threw back his head and laughed. "Gods, if I had known it was so easy to bring a nation to heel, I would've done this a long time ago."

"Not to rain on your parade," Kojima said, rolling his head from side-to-side, "but, since there is a rebel army in arms against you, it would appear that a nation is _not _easy to lead."

Jiro batted the comment aside. "Whatever. That's just my uncle's mess. Once the people see that, once more, there is a strong hand on the tiller, they'll fall into line, just you wait and see."

Kojima smiled his mirthless, grotesque little smile. "I wait with baited breath, my lord." He tapped more ash from his cigarette, the cigarette that never seemed to go out, no matter how long it burned. Jiro didn't know what to make of it. _I'm probably just not paying attention when he lights a new one. _He nodded to himself, pleased with the explanation. _Yeah, that's it. What else could it be?_

Kojima reached out, tapped on a spot on the coast. "However, coming back to the matter at hand…are you really sure that this is the spot where our enemies will land?"

Jiro rolled his eyes. "You doubt me, Kojima? Really?"

Kojima shrugged. "Surely it is my job to doubt you, my lord."

"Eh, fair enough. But yes, in answer to your question, I'm sure." He tapped the spot Kojima had indicated. "My cousins can't risk a direct attack on Miyako, no matter what their strength. They have to prove they're a viable threat by winning some sort of victory in the field, the closer to the city, the better, _but not too close._ This," he ran his finger around that very same spot, tracing a circle, "is the best place that meets all of those criteria." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "With that in mind, it's all fairly simple. Smash them before they can really establish themselves, show them for the weak, useless cowards that they really are, and the throne is as good as mine."

Kojima nodded, clucking his tongue against his top teeth. "I see…it certainly _does _seem that simple…"

Jiro smiled, and did nothing to not look smug. "Of _course _it's that simple. My cousins made a mistake coming back to the Homeland, and I intend to show them the depths of their error."

"Hmm…I hope you've taken into account Prince Zuko's waterbending wife."

"Please. What can one waterbender really accomplish?"

"When that waterbender is one of the most skilled and talented waterbenders in the world, fighting alongside her husband and her sister-in-law, in the name of the girl she views as a daughter? Quite a bit, I would imagine."

Jiro couldn't even _begin _to bring himself to dignify that with a response, so he didn't. "Whatever. Point is, I've got the troops, I've got the opportunity, and when I mount the heads of my cousins and Zuko's little barbarian whore on pikes and march back into Miyako, I'll have the power. It's my _karma; _it can't be stopped."

Kojima tilted his head to one side, looking like he was about to burst into laughter. "They've stopped you before, my lord."

Rage began to blur the edges of Jiro's vision. "They won't stop me this time. They haven't got their little _Avatar _to back them up."

Kojima popped an eyebrow, looking immensely amused. "What makes you think they ever needed an Avatar to stop you?"

That did it. Jiro saw red, slamming his fists on the table hard enough to make it jump. "Why you little…" His fury choked his words in this throat. He spluttered and growled, his body trembling, blood pumping hot and heavy and painful through his veins. "Just…just…" He fumbled for words, fire flowing through his veins, his voice something grotesque and inhuman, even to him. _"Just who the fuck do you think you are, you poisonous little toad?!"_

"General Matsuura…?"

Jiro blinked. At some point, he had turned towards the entrance to his tent. There, standing before him, was a young officer, a lieutenant, it seemed, whose name Jiro couldn't make himself bother to remember. The man's eyes darted back-and-forth, his face pale, looking like a little kid who had just walked in on his parents at an inopportune moment.

_**"WHAT?!" **_Jiro snarled.

The man practically jumped in fright, stammering a few times before he found his voice. "I…uh…I…" He gulped, tried again. "I just…um…Colonel Nishijima sent me to…um…to report."

Jiro groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. _These damn headaches…__**where do they come from?! **_"And…?"

It took a few more gulps for the man to spit it out. "Well…um…one of our forward war balloons has caught sight of the rebel fleet, sir. As…um…as per your…uh…_orders, _all scouting balloons have been pulled back and grounded. Though…um…well…"

Jiro snapped his fingers a few times, looking as impatient as he felt. "Spit it out, lieutenant."

"Heh…uh…" The man tugged at his collar a few times, and what looked to Jiro like sweat began to bead on his brow. "Well…heh…uh…Colonel Nishijima, he…um…renews his request to launch an aerial attack on the rebels, sir. It…um…it appears that they are…well…more numerous than we were initially led to believe, at least a division's worth, if not more, and that's just what the scout saw."

Jiro sighed and shook his head. "My orders remain the same. I don't want them scattering or changing course. We meet them here, and destroy them here, before they're ordered. Understood?"

The man clicked his heels and bowed. "Of course, sir."

"Good. Pass that on to your fool of a commander. Was there anything else?"

The man's eyes darted around once more. "Well…um…is everything alright, sir? You seemed angry…"

Jiro groaned. "Yes, well, I was just…just…" He had turned his head, fully expecting to see Kojima smiling smugly while lounging in some campaign chair, except…

_Except…_

_ He wasn't there…_

Jiro felt his eyes narrow in anger. _You little piece of shit. You __**bastard. **__I'm on to you, you and your disappearing tricks. You think you're going to make everyone think I'm crazy? Well, watch __**this.**_

Turning back to the intruder, Jiro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, I was just thinking out loud; don't worry about it, Lieutenant."

The man nodded, almost too eagerly, it seemed to Jiro. "Oh…well…of course, sir." Another bow. "Sorry to have disturbed you. I'll pass your orders to Colonel Nishijima right away."

Jiro nodded. "See that you do."

Another bow, and then Jiro was, once more, alone. _Or, _he thought, turning to pace erratically around the tent, _so it seems. _He looked everywhere, under tables, behind cabinets, even lifting up maps and papers.

_I know you're here, Kojima. You thought you'd fool me with your so-called __**death, **__didn't you? Well, I'm not fooled. I know you're out there._

_**I know it.**_

* * *

Alright, so, last night, I'm talking over the past few days' worth of updates with my wife, _as is our wont, _and when we got on the subject of Jiro, and what the hell is up with him, and whether I'm painting it ambiguously enough, my brilliant, incredible, just drop dead _gorgeous _wife drops this Fan Theory of hers, and guys, it, quite literally, _blew my **MIND. **_Like, I'm still reeling from it. I was actually speechless for a good moment. I'm not going to tell _you guys, _of course, I'll leave that up to her, because she's determined to, at some point, toss up a review that spells out her idea. So, you know, keep an eye out for that.

*leans back, sighs* I'm serious, guys. Mind. Fucking. _**Blown. **_I feel like one does when one hears the theory of how _Frozen, Tangled, _and _The Little Mermaid _all exist in the same universe for the first time. You know that one? Yeah, my wife's fan theory is on par with _that _kind of mind fuckery. And it's worse, because I don't know whether to be proud that my story could inspire a theory like that, or ashamed because I didn't think of it first.

*smiles* Isn't writing _awesome? _Because it is.

_ANYHOO, _that's all for today. Got a long day of writing ahead of me, and maybe a nap at some point, probably some adult bullshit to do. So, without further ado...

Moving on! In the next chapter, Lobsang goes to see Korra, but can only find the Avatar. Stay tuned!


	87. LOBSANG III

LOBSANG

CONVINCING THE GENERALS IN CHARGE OF THE COMING ASSAULT ON THE INNER CITY TO AGREE TO SOKKA'S PLAN HAD BEEN EASIER THAN LOBSANG HAD ANTICIPATED. It had helped, he supposed, that they had themselves been looking for some way under the walls, since the earthbenders of the Dai Li had rendered tunneling efforts pointless. Then, once it was explained that none of _their _men would be risked on this little venture, they had practically danced little jigs around the room in their enthusiasm, completely oblivious to how much Lobsang had wanted to bend the air from the room.

_Those are my friends, you monsters, _he had wanted to scream. _They may be young and new to life, but they have more heart and more courage than half the world __**combined.**_

In the end, though, he had controlled his anger. They weren't _trying _to be heartless, he knew, they were just being _soldiers. Not that that's an excuse, _he mumbled to himself as he left the room. _It's an explanation, sure, but not a bloody __**excuse.**_

In the end, though, they agreed to let Lobsang and his young friends try, which left him with one last person to see, one last door to walk through.

He sighed. How long he had been standing at that particular door, he did not know. If couldn't have been long, considering that the young lady leaning against a wall not far behind him had not yet begun to show any signs of impatience, but it felt like it. _Life is a succession of doors and rooms, rooms and doors, _he thought, half-remembering long ago lessons. In his mind's eye, he was once more a novice, sitting at Guru Pathik's feet, while the old man giggled like a little boy and sipped his disgusting onion and banana _concoctions _(since Lobsang had never been willing to call them _drinks_). The old man's soft, thin voice reached up from the past, his words once more winding their way through Lobsang's heart.

_Doors and rooms, my young novices, rooms and doors. We are always either stepping through doors and refusing to, but no matter what, you will always be in one room or another, and you must come to terms with whatever you find within._

Lobsang chuckled. _Crazy old coot. Smarter than all of us, he was. _With that final thought, he knocked softly on the door.

Two words came back, strange and empty and flat. "Come in."

Lobsang did as he was bid.

Closing the door gently behind him, he turned to face the room's sole occupant. It was less a room than it was a veranda. It was large and empty and bare, one side open to the outside, offering a splendid view of both Ba Sing Se itself and the armies marching off into the distance in the rolling fields beyond. There was a simple bedroll, balled up neatly in a corner, and a few odds and ends of clothing hanging up to dry along the wall to his left. In the center of the room, looking out upon the city, was the person he had come to see. She was sitting in a standard meditative pose, legs crossed atop the cushion underneath her, eyes no doubt closed.

Her name was Korra, but Lobsang wasn't sure that's who he was speaking to. Korra was who he had come to see, but first, he would have to get past the Avatar.

He didn't much like his chances. _Toph told me so, but I didn't listen. _He cast a quick look at the ceiling, looking past it to catch a mental glimpse of the heavens above. _You always told me to start listening, Father. __**Too stubborn by half, boy. **__Maybe so._

_ Maybe so…_

He clasped his hands at his waist and bowed. "Good day, Lady Avatar." The title stuck in his throat. He didn't like how it sounded, nor how it tasted or felt, not one bit.

There was a pause, while the Avatar stood, turned to face him, and returned the bow. "Good day, Lobsang, son of Kalden." The Avatar rose from her bow, and resumed her seat on her cushion. "I pray you are well."

_So distant, so cold. The stories always said that this is what a fully realized Avatar sounds like, what they become, how they act, how they look. I never believed them. Heh…you were right, Father, as always._

_ Too smart for my own good, too stubborn by half._

"As well as can be expected, my lady. And you?"

A shrug, absent, somehow dismissive. "I am that I am, Lobsang, son of Kalden. I am the Avatar; how could I be otherwise?"

He nodded, not entirely sure why he was doing so. "Indeed…well…I'm afraid this is not a social call, my lady." The courtesies kept tripping off his tongue, no matter how much he struggled against them. _This is not you, _he wanted to scream. _You are Korra, Korra, who just __**happens **__to be the Avatar. Remember who you are! __**Remember! **_"You see-"

The Avatar stopped him with a raised hand. "I'm going to have to stop you right there, old friend. I know why you are here."

It was with a great effort that he prevented his mouth from falling open. "You…do…?"

The Avatar nodded. "Of course I do. I am the Avatar. I am the Earth, and the Earth is alive through me. I feel all four elements, and all four elements speak to me, through me, _are me. _Very little escapes my notice."

He gave himself a shake, struggled hard against the mounting sense of fear and unease. "Very well. Then, you know the importance of my position."

"And you know why I must say no."

His heart fell, but he pushed through the pain that was anything _but _physical. "But…my lady…"

She dropped her hand back to her lap, and dipped her head. "You must understand, Lobsang, son of Kalden. The issue of the Inner City is an internal Earth Kingdom affair, one they must settle themselves. As the Avatar, I cannot take sides; surely you know this. You, after all, are the one who taught me most of what I know about the Avatar."

_Yes, I did teach you much of that…but I didn't teach you like this. I read the old stories, and feared the return of those kinds of Avatars. __**I feared the return of the old ways, and the old world. **_

But he didn't say any of that; he couldn't. He had to stay clear, stay focused. "But, my lady, I do not ask you to take an active part. I merely ask that you help me mount a diversion. The mere sight of you circling the Inner City on an air bison would ensure that the Dai Li's eyes are focused anywhere but down. It may mean the difference between life and death for your friends."

The Avatar sighed, and shook her head. "I'm afraid that's simply not possible. I must remain here, and wait for the Fire Lord to accept my challenge to him. Only then can the Balance be restored, and it is the Balance to which the Avatar must be devoted."

His teeth were grinding. He was angry, angrier than he had been in a long time. The last time had been this furious, he had been a much younger man, back when…

He sighed. _I haven't been this angry since Tsering was taken from me…_

_ One more time. I have to keep trying. I have to._

_ The others swear you're in there, Korra._

_ I have to believe in that._

He bowed his head. "Please, Lady Avatar…please…_Korra…_help us…help your friends…"

A long silence passed, the only sound the whisper of the wind across the veranda. For a moment, he was sure she would refuse him once more. How could she not? This was, after all, the Avatar.

And when the Avatar spoke, it was final.

But then…she spoke…

"I…may be able to help." He looked up, and couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. The eyes had softened, and the voice…

_Hovering somewhere on the edges…_

_ It's her…_

_**Korra…**_

The Avatar took a deep breath, and, for a moment, her eyes went blue. A strange crackling _thrum _of power buzzed in Lobsang's ears, rising ever higher, fading just as quickly.

The ethereal blue faded. The Avatar reached into her pocket, pulled out a pen and paper, wrote something, bent it through the air into Lobsang's hands.

"On that paper is an address. There, you will find a young girl of Water Tribe heritage, about my age. From a distance, she will easily be mistaken for me, especially in the heat of battle. Her father was murdered by the Dai Li a year ago, and she will be eager to help." She bowed her head. "That is all I can do."

Hope fluttered within his heart. Stuffing the paper in his pocket, he spread his hands, stepped forward. "Please, Korra, you know you can do more, you _want _to do more. Come with me, come back to your friends. Toph's just outside this-"

"That will be all, Lobsang, son of Kalden," the Avatar snapped. "Good day, and may the gods be with you." Korra vanished from the eyes, and, without another word, the Avatar stood, turned back to the outside world, sat, and resumed her meditations.

Lobsang didn't know what else to do, so he did the only thing that remained to him.

He left.

He closed the door behind him, found himself blinking back tears of anger and frustration in the sudden gloom. As he blinked, the shadows shifted, and he did his best to smile at the young girl standing before him, a conical Earth Kingdom helmet tucked under her arm.

"I believe, young lady," he said, his words light with a glibness he did not in the least bit feel, "the words you are looking for are, _I told you so._"

Toph just shrugged. "I think you've mistaken me for Katara."

He chuckled at that. "You might have a point there." He gave one last look at the door, and sighed. "Any chance that you want to take a crack at it?"

Toph scoffed, taking her helmet from under her arm and sliding it onto her head. "Why would I? That's not my Korra; that's the Avatar."

Lobsang closed his eyes; it was either that, or cry. "You know, my father always warned me that the problem with getting what you wanted is getting what once you wanted."

Toph scoffed once more, even stronger this time. "Fuck all that philosophical bullshit. You can give up all you want; I'm getting my girl back, even if I have to break the gods-damn planet open to do it." She turned on her heel, and began striding off down the hall. "Now, move your ass, Old Man, we have some awesome to do."

By the time he turned back around and opened his eyes, she was almost gone from sight. He had to run to catch up.

* * *

There are some interesting things in this chapter. Two of them are references to other works, somewhat obscure. Lobsang's rumination on doors and rooms is more-or-less stolen from one of the better episodes of _House, _where it's said by this young woman House gets stuck with for a whole day. I always thought that was strangely profound, and have been trying to steal it and use it somewhere for a long time.

The other reference is when Lobsang talks about the problem with getting what you want. That line I stole from _Sandman, _because _Sandman _is awesome and Neil Gaiman is my god.

The third interesting thing is Toph's last line. This is, quite possible, the single greatest thing I have ever written, or ever will write, in my entire life. I've re-read that line about a dozen times just this morning, because it rocks socks.

Other than that, the chapter speaks for itself.

Moving on! In the next chapter, the homesick boy has a decision to make. Stay tuned!


	88. THE HOMESICK BOY II

THE HOMESICK BOY

FAINTLY, THE SOUND NEARLY DROWNED OUT BY THE TRAMPING OF FEET AND THE DIN OF MARCHING ARMIES, KOIZUMI COULD SWEAR THAT HE HEARD SOMEONE CALLING HIS NAME. He stood, looked in the general direction of the sound, annoyance rising in his throat as he recognized his cousin, waving at him from the edge of the camp. He looked down at the steaming bowl of _udon _in one hand, chopsticks poised in the other. His stomach rumbled, and for a moment, he came very close to flipping his cousin off and sitting right back down.

Of course, rely on Wakatsuki to press his advantage.

"Hey, Tetsu! Get your ass over here! I want you to meet somebody!"

Koizumi sighed, looking down to his buddy Tomokazu for support. Sadly, said support was not forthcoming, as Tomokazu shook his head and jerked a thumb in Wakatsuki's direction. "Hey, he's not _my _fucking cousin."

Koizumi rolled his eyes. "Some friend you are, Tomo."

Tomokazu shrugged. "I do what I can. Besides, the quicker you see what he wants, the quicker he'll be done with you."

Koizumi's shoulders slumped. "Yeah…" He turned to face his cousin, waved back, shouted, "On my way!" Then, to his friend, he said, "Keep my spot open; I'll be back."

Tomokazu shrugged, which, to be fair, wasn't indifference; that was just his primary method of communication. "Whatever."

With that, slurping noodles from his bowl as he walked, Koizumi set off to find out what his cousin wanted.

By the time he reached his cousin, Wakatsuki was not alone. Standing beside him was another soldier, obviously of a different regiment, dressed in full battle-rattle, a white cloth tied tightly around his arm, marking him as a member of one of the units that were marching southeast to fight alongside the other nations against the Fire Lord. As they all exchanged bows, Koizumi took another moment to get a good look at the man. He was young, maybe nineteen, maybe twenty, with thick black stubble covering his face and a stocky build of average height.

Wakatsuki launched into introductions. "Tetsu," he said, "I want you to meet my new friend, Masakatsu-san. Masakatsu-san, this is my cousin, Koizumi Tetsu."

Koizumi bowed. "Greetings, Masakatsu-san."

The bow was returned, though the soldier (a sergeant, judging by his rank piping, though Tetsu had heard that rank was occasionally a bit meaningless in the units that had outright mutinied) did so with a flippant sort of air, an impression mirrored by the wistful smile that seemed permanently fixed to his face. "Likewise, Koizumi-san."

Wakatsuki clapped a hand to Masakatsu's shoulder, giving the guy a shake that made his armor rattle. "Masakatsu-san here is with the Seventy-First Infantry."

Masakatsu jerked a thumb back at the red-clad soldiers who were marching down one side of the road. Koizumi had long since given up on trying to keep track of who was who; all week, soldiers had been marching, green to one side, red to the other, tanks and cavalry flowing up and down the middle. "These dirty-looking assholes."

"They've come all the way out of the northeast!" Wakatsuki bubbled, looking like he was going to burst with excitement. "Can you believe that? They marched all the way here, just to fight the Fire Lord!"

Masakatsu shrugged, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. "Meh, to be honest, I was hoping the old fool would abdicate and put an end to all of this, but Old Man Iroh has never been known for having a soft spine." He took a deep drag, blew out the smoke in a cloud that quickly disappeared into the thick haze of dust that hung over everything. "Not like that slimy son of his, from what I hear. Thank the gods we won't ever have to bow to _him._"

Koizumi nodded, not really following. "Old Man? Surely you mean His Majesty?"

Masakatsu shot him a look as sharp as a dagger, and answered his question by spitting on the ground. "That's what I have to say for Fire Lords. It's their fault we've been out here for a hundred-years now, dying like dogs in the dust, making other poor dumb bastards die in the dust along with us. I'm not bowing to any gods-damn _Fire Lord _ever again, and I'm going to fight," here, he gave the _yari _he had balanced precariously on one shoulder a shake, "to make that sure that I don't." He took another puff. "In fact, that's why I'm here."

Koizumi frowned. "What do you mean?"

Wakatsuki jumped in, all but vibrating with what he obviously felt was the wonder of it all. "Masakatsu has been stopping at all the regiments he's passed, all the ones that have said they're going to sit out the coming battle, asking for volunteers. What do you think, cousin?" he added with a slap to Koizumi's stomach. "Up for one more battle?"

_What do I think? _Koizumi looked down into the bowl in his hand. _What do I think…_

_ I think I've seen too much death. I think I've watched too many friends and family die. I think that I'm with the Colonel, that I'll defend myself, but I don't intend to pick a fight, especially not with the fucking Fire Lord. I think…_

_ I think…_

He shrugged, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, cousin, but I just want to go home. Refusing to fight anymore is one thing; outright mutiny is another. I don't disrespect your decision, Masakatsu-san," he continued with a polite bow, "and I pray that the gods watch over you and bring you victory, but like I said, I'm done with war. I just want to go home."

Wakatsuki huffed, crossing his arms. "But, come on, Tetsu-"

Masakatsu stopped him with a hand. "It's quite alright, my new friend. For what it's worth," he said, turning back to Koizumi, "I respect your decision. I don't agree with it, but I respect it. But…consider this…" He tilted his head, off to the southeast. "See those hills over there? That's where the battle's going to go down. You won't be but an hour or two from the front, when it happens. You may end up not having a choice, if that prick who sits his ass on the Scarlet Throne breaks through the line."

Koizumi shrugged. "I don't think any of us, at least here, what to face His Majesty."

Masakatsu shook his head. "Eh, fuck the Fire Lord, and fuck fighting him. Fight for the future, and for all these fine people around you, and, hey, if you want, fight for me, so that I, too, might go home again." With that, he bowed, first to Wakatsuki, then to Koizumi. "Well, good day, gentlemen. I wish you all the best."

Koizumi and his cousin returned the bow, and then they watched him saunter off, walking with a happy, jaunty step, and loudly whistling a happy, jaunty tune.

For his part, Koizumi would have liked to have said that he slept well that night.

That, however, would've been a lie.

* * *

If this story is about anything, it's that we always have a choice. Sometimes that choice is between something terrible and something even worse, but a choice, we always have (how about that Yoda Speak there, huh?), and at the end of the day, that's what makes us human.

In way, that's the problem with the Avatar, isn't it? To be the Avatar, you have to give up your right to make choices; thus, you become something other than human. But what if an Avatar decided to make a choice, or, more specifically, the only choice they actually have, the choice Avatars have been avoiding since the beginning?

That would make a rather fascinating story, wouldn't it? :-D

Moving on! In the next chapter, Suki waits. Stay tuned!


	89. SUKI V

SUKI

THEY SAT IN A DARKENED ROOM, GATHERED AROUND A HOLE IN THE FLOOR, PEERING INTO DARKNESS. Suki looked around, at her friends. Sokka was sprawled across the floor, lazily smoking, eyes closed, humming to himself. Suki gave a derisive snort and shook her head, leaning over to give Asami a poke with her elbow. "Will you look at that idiot?" she said, voice low, nodding at the relaxed young man. "Like we're going on an afternoon stroll through the park, not getting ready to plunge into the bowels of the earth."

Asami, for her part, looked just as nervous as Suki, and just as determined not to acknowledge it. "Well," she said, blowing out her own thick stream of smoke, "it's Sokka; what can you expect? Guy's too stupid to be scared."

Suki giggled, as quietly as she could. _Though I haven't the faintest idea why; it's not like the watchers on the walls can even see this house, much less hear us. _She still kept her voice low, like everyone else (_except for Toph, _she thought with a roll of her eyes); it just seemed to be the order of the day. "Probably composing sappy love poems for Zula."

Asami clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. "Oh, gods, probably…how bad do you think it is?"

Suki pursed her lips, letting her mind drift back to happier, more carefree times. _Or, at least, times that __**seemed **__more carefree, which I suppose is all that matters, in the end. _"Actually, and this will probably come as a bit of a surprise, but he's not that bad at poetry."

Asami's eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. "Surely you jest."

Suki put a hand to her heart. "My hand to the gods, I shit you not. Guy can rattle haikus off of the top of his head. And good ones, too. It's ridiculous."

Asami frowned, her mouth moving as she chewed on the idea. "Oddly enough…that doesn't seem that surprising, now that I think about it."

"I know, right? It's exactly the kind of crazy thing that he seems to be randomly good at."

Asami mulled it over some more, her mouth slowly curling into a soft smile. "Heh…you know what's funny? According to Zula, Zuko is absolutely _shit _at poetry. Like, _epically bad._"

Suki had to laugh at that, though she copied her friend in clapping a hand to her mouth to stifle the noise. "I can totally see that. You ever see an example for yourself?"

Asami pondered the subject for a moment. "Just once, back when I was…oh…fifteen or so. Mai had been betrothed to Zuko for, like, about a year at this point, and apparently, his mother browbeat him into writing better letters to Mai. So, he did his best, and wrote this sappy little poem to her. Mai swooned over it, but, between you, me, and Zula? _It was fucking awful. _Like, the absolute worst thing I've ever seen, and I've seen the Ember Island Players do _Love Amongst the Dragons._"

Suki was still laughing, struggling hard to contain herself. "Oh, gods, that is just…it's almost _too _good." She got a hold of herself, and found that it was becoming harder and harder not to look down into the hole. "Hey, Asami?"

"Yeah?"

"What was she like? Mai, I mean."

Asami was quiet for a long time, and for a moment, Suki wasn't sure her friend would answer. When she did, her voice was very soft, and very far away.

"I…honestly, I don't know. I thought I did, but it turned out I was wrong, and I…I didn't get the chance to really know her, I mean, the _true _Mai."

Suki reached out, threw an arm around her friend's shoulders, and pulled the girl close. "Hey, it's okay. Just…tell me about the Mai you knew."

"Heh…she was…picture the absolutely perfect noblewoman. I mean, just well and truly _perfect. _Impeccable pedigree, going back centuries, if not _millennia. _Perfect manner of speaking, perfect posture, always had the perfect outfit, laughed the precise right amount, always seemed to know the perfect thing to say…" Asami's shoulders slumped, and she sighed, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "I really, really hated her, for a long time, mostly because, deep down, I wanted to _be her._ And then…well…it turned out that I didn't know her at all."

Suki sighed, and nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean…"

"You do?"

"Of course. That's how I feel about the Order. That's why, when this is all over, I'm going back to Kyoshi, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make them better, to make the Order everything I thought it was, everything I believe it can be."

"I like the sound of that. If anyone can pull it off, it's you."

"Aww, thanks!" A thought popped into Suki's head, seemingly out of nowhere, and she almost smacked herself for not thinking of it before. "Hey! I just thought of something…what're you doing when it's all done with?"

Asami shrugged, a strange look on her face. "Honestly? I haven't the faintest idea. I'll probably pop back home for a bit, let my parents know I'm okay, but…other than that?" Another shrug, even more indifferent this time. "I really don't know. The idea of trying to…I dunno…_be who I was, _trying to re-enter that world? Makes me feel all weird and queasy. I doubt I'll stay there for long. If Zula makes it, I'll probably just go where she goes for a bit."

"Well, you know, and I'm being very serious here, and you don't have to answer now, or ever, really, it's cool, _but, _I was just thinking…after you check in on your family, why don't you, you know, come to Kyoshi? Join the Order? We are going to need girls like you, if we're going to make things right."

Asami rounded on her, eyes wide, face pale. "You…you mean that?"

Suki gave an awkward laugh, a hand rubbing at the back of her neck. "Well…_yeah. _Why not? I didn't leave the Order because it was bad, and I think you'd like it."

Asami nodded, nibbling on her lip. "What about your Sisters? Would they except…you know…someone like me?"

Suki heard the unasked question. _Would they accept someone who was Fire Nation? _Suki gave her friend's shoulder a squeeze. "Absolutely. And if they don't, you and I will just have to beat their asses until they change their mind."

Asami giggled. "You know…I just might have to do that…in fact-"

"Yo, motherfuckers!"

Suki squeaked, reeling back from the hole in the ground, feeling only somewhat better in the knowledge that Asami did the exact same thing. As soon as her nerves settled (_as much as they're going to for the next few hours, _she thought with a mental curse), she shot the head that had just popped out of the hole a glare. "For fuck's sake, Toph, you scared us half to death!"

If Toph was chastened by this, she didn't show it. "Then my work here is done." She turned to Sokka. "Hey, Snoozles! Pull your ass out of your latest wet dream; it's show time."

Sokka was slowly rousing himself from his daydreaming, smiling as he quickly began putting his wolf-tail back into place. "You guys hit the right tunnel?"

Toph rolled her eyes and looked back into the hole. "Hey, Gramps! Did you hear that? Dickweed here thinks we might've hit the wrong tunnel!"

From down in the hole came the voice of the man Toph insisted on calling _Gramps, _that being their guide, a kindly old former servant named Qiao Jinhai. Chuckling, the man said, "Oh, it's quite alright, my dear; it's a reasonable concern after all."

"Fuck that," Toph snarked, "you were with me, and Toph Bei Fuckin' Fong don't make no mistakes." She turned back to Sokka. "Got that, Snoozles?"

Sokka raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, fine, fine, I'm an asshole for even asking."

Toph scoffed. "About damn time you got it. What about you two? Ready?"

Asami stood, attached the _jian _sword she practiced with a good five-to-six hours a day to her sword-belt. "Damn straight I'm ready. Suki?"

Suki was already up, checking her sword and giving her light armor a final eyeball. "Oh, I'm not ready at all. In fact, this might be a good time to tell you guys that I hate small, enclosed places."

Sokka popped an eyebrow. "No shit?"

Suki sighed. "No shit."

Toph scoffed. "Well, too fucking late now, Hot Buns."

That gave Suki a pause. _The hell? _"_Hot Buns? _Since when the hell was I _Hot Buns?_"

Toph pondered that with a rather theatric expression. "Since just now?"

Suki thought about it some more, then decided to roll with it. "Whatever. _Hot Buns _it is. So," she continued, snatching her helmet off the floor and sliding it on, "we doing this or what?"

Sokka nodded, putting on his own helmet, looking rather fearsome in his Water Tribe armor and tribal war paint. "Oh, we're doing this alright."

"Damn straight," Asami added, donning her own helmet. "For our friends."

Toph put on a predatory smile. "For Korra."

"Fuck the Avatar, though," Sokka said.

Toph laughed. "Word. Now, enough chat-chit. Help me get Gramps out of here, and let's go do something awesome." With that, she dropped down into the hole, replaced a moment later by the old man, whom Sokka and Asami pulled up to the surface, before handing him over to that girl Jin, who'd helped them find him. Many bows and thanks were exchanged, and then it was time to go.

Suki almost didn't make it very far. The second she dropped into the whole, her throat seized up, her body began to shake, and her skin was covered in a thick layer of sweat. Only the feeling of someone taking her hand, and Sokka's rapid lighting of a torch, held the panic at bay.

Suki took a deep breath, let it out. _It's okay, I'm with my friends. It's okay. I'm okay._

_**I've got this.**_

She looked to whoever had grabbed her hand, and was not in the least bit surprised to find that it was Asami. She gave the hand a squeeze, mumbled her thanks, and turned to Sokka, who was passing her a torch and getting ready to light another one.

Once everyone had torches, they all crouched down, while Sokka spread the map on the ground. "Alright," he said, "just to make sure everyone knows what to expect, and because one can't repeat this kind of shit too often: We're going to travel together for a bit, until we hit where Toph and Qiao-zhang linked this new tunnel to the pre-existing one." He traced their path with a finger, and everyone, except Toph, of course, who was translating Sokka's Guangzhou into Nihongo for Asami, followed with their eyes. "From there, we travel together until we hit the start of the Crystal Catacombs."

"How will we know?" Suki asked, though why she hadn't before, she wasn't entirely sure.

Toph laughed. "According to Gramps, _you'll know. _Apparently, the name isn't ironic."

Suki nodded, and felt a thrill of excitement. _I always wanted to come to Ba Sing Se, find out if the Crystal Catacombs were real. _"Got it. By then, the assault up above should be in full swing. From there, we three follow the tunnel until we come out in the Palace itself, and Toph starts making her own path until she comes out in the middle of the Inner City."

"At which point," Sokka finished, "she kicks this Kuvira lady's ass."

Toph smacked a fist into a palm, looking quite pleased at the idea. "Thank the gods. I've got a lot of frustration to take out on _somebody, _and from what I hear, I won't even feel bad about kicking this lady around."

Sokka laughed. "Right on." He rolled up the map, stood, stashed it under one of his greaves. "Everyone ready?"

They answered with nods.

"Sweet," he said. "Let's go."

They went.

* * *

Fun fact: My wife totally ships Suki and Asami. I'm all, _I'm not sure that works, for at least one side of the equation, _and she just scoffed and said, _Aren't you the one who told me to never let the facts get in the way of one's ship? _I had to bow to that reasoning; it really is the primary law of shipping.

For those playing the home game, the wife and I are currently on episode nine of _Agents of SHIELD, _and, well..._the fuck is up with Tahiti?! Why has the phrase **it's a magical place **become so fucking ominous to me?! _Just so you know, I really don't want anyone to answer that. Like, seriously, _don't, _especially in a review. My wife is violently anti-spoiler, and her Latina rage knows no bounds when riled.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Azula and Katara talk about mothers. Stay tuned!


	90. AZULA V

AZULA

"DID MY BROTHER EVER TELL YOU ABOUT THE EMBER ISLAND PLAYERS?"

Beside her, Katara shook her head. "As a matter of fact," she said, eyes closed, face turned to the wind, "I don't think he has."

They were out on the deck again, leaning over the railing at the bow. They were dressed in their respective armor, Katara's face covered in tribal war paint that Azula had helped her apply (though Azula wasn't entirely happy with how she'd done, no matter how much her sister-in-law told her that she did just fine). Behind them, the ship was alive with activity, soldiers suiting up, sharpening and checking weapons, getting into formation, sailors bustling about. The same scene was being played out on all the ships of their little armada, a division's worth of troops getting ready to land, another two divisions a day behind them.

_But right here, at this railing, in this spot, the eye of the storm…_

She sighed, and smiled. _Perfect calm…_

_ Oh, Mai, Ty, Mother, I pray that you're watching this._

_ You're going to __**love **__this show._

"I'm not surprised," she said, sighing as a cool breeze brushed against her skin. "Zu-Zu's never been one for plays."

Katara giggled. "So he's told me. _Owari _and _kyōgen _seem to be more his thing. Though, it does beg the question…how does he know a play like _Love Amongst the Dragons _by heart?"

Azula smiled, her mind drifting happily back over memory lane. _But only the good memories, because they were there, not matter how dark it got. _"Because it was our mother's favorite play, like, _of all time. _She must've dragged us to see that damn thing a half-dozen times a year, _when we were lucky._"

"Which, I imagine, brings us back to the Ember Island Players."

"Right on the money as usual." Azula gave her sister-in-law a playful nudge in the arm. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

Katara smirked. "What, it's not just because your brother's not so depressive and down on himself anymore?"

"Well, there's that, but also because you're cool. Pretty much how I always pictured my sister-in-law. But, as I was saying, _the Ember Island Players, _they were the local theater troupe on Ember Island."

"The vacation spot for the rich and powerful of the Fire Nation, right?"

"Pretty much. The Royal Family has a vacation home there, owns a pretty big chunk of the island. After our uncle took the throne, and Father became more interested in getting drunk and making Uncle's life miserable than he was in making _our_ lives miserable, we used to go there a lot, and every time we went, Mother dragged Zu-Zu and I to see the Ember Island Players. I swear, whatever they put on, Mother took us to go see it."

"So, they were good, I take it."

Azula scoffed. "What? No! That's the thing: _They were crap. _And I mean, like, saying that they sucked does a disservice to things that suck. They were just…oh gods, _awful. _You know that part in _Love Amongst the Dragons, _the one that always makes you cry?"

"And what," Katara said, throwing a little bit of her infamous _tone _into her voice, "you're going to try and tell me that you don't tear up, too?"

Azula checked over both shoulders. "My brother's not around, right?"

"Well, he wasn't in my bed last night, or the night before, so I'm going to go with _no_."

"Good, because, in that case, yeah, I totally do."

"Don't worry, I won't tell Zuko. We girls gotta stick together!"

"See? This is why I like you. But, _anyways, _these guys were just…ugh…_terrible. _So terrible, in fact, that a lot of people believed it was all just an act. Like, they performed so terribly that it was almost an art form, and because everyone thought they were bad, the censors never messed with them much."

"So, they were popular?"

"_Oh yeah. _I mean, with a troupe that bad, you hear about it, you just have to see it, right? And you got drunk and ate junk food and talked loudly and booed and heckled to your heart's content. It was actually encouraged, if you can believe it! It's this whole experience, you have to see it to believe it."

"Wow…you guys are totally taking me there when this is all over."

"Oh, don't worry. We actually kind of have to."

"Really? Why?"

"Because, well…heh…if I cry here, I swear to the gods, you better not tell anybody."

Katara rolled her eyes. "You know me better than that, Zula."

Azula smiled. "Yeah, I do…but anyways, you see, Mother? _She loved them. _It was pretty much the only time Zu-Zu and I ever saw her smile and laugh and have a good time, like, _genuinely enjoy herself. _She would giggle like a little girl, and join in the fun. She always made us sit with the crowd, not in the Royal Box, because she said that was more fun. And she would just…this _look _would come over her, and she would relax, and…it was just…she…" Azula tried to breathe, but it was hard. It felt like there was a hot, jagged lump in her throat, and everything had to be forced past it.

But she managed, because she was Azula, and even though she had lost more than she had ever thought possible even in her darkest moments, well…

_I've gained a lot, too. I've still got friends._

_ I'm still me._

"She always told us that, when she died, she wanted her ashes given to the Players, and sprinkled over their stage, because her happiest moments were when she took us, just Zu-Zu and me and her, to that theater, to see that troupe."

She blinked, and somehow, without her even realizing it, Katara had an arm around her, and she had an arm around Katara, and, for the first time since Ty Lee had died, she knew what it was like to have a sister.

_Yeah, I've got this._

"You know," Katara said, her voice soft and gentle and warm, "I think our mothers would've gotten along."

Azula sniffed, and very subtly wiped her eyes. "You think so?"

"Oh yeah. You see, back home, we have this tradition, where, when a chief or a chief's wife dies, we put on this big performance, the whole tribe. The basic point is that we sing them into the afterlife, and through our performance, show the gods that these were good people, and deserving of a quick trip."

Azula felt her mouth quirk into a smirk. "So, what happens if the chief sucked, or his wife was a harpy?"

Katara giggled. "Well, let's just say that some performances are more joyous and heartfelt than others. But, _anyways, _there's a lot of tradition to it, and a certain form. It's all supposed to be very serious, right? Serious, sincere, only the best that our tribe has to offer. But, see, my mother-"

"Kya, right?"

"Right. So, my mother, she really didn't like that. To be honest, she thought it was all kind of, well, _too much. _So, when we were kids, she made Sokka and I promise, and I mean, like, made us make a _serious promise, _hands holding the fresh hearts of wolves and the whole nine yards, that we would make her wake as funny and silly and stupid as possible. She wanted Sokka to dress up as her, whether he was chief or not, complete with make-up and a wig, and a bad wig, too, and we were to make fun of her and make everyone laugh. She told us, _If I see a single sad face among our people that day, I will haunt you for the rest of your lives._"

Azula took a good look at Katara, and nodded. "Having met you, I can imagine that she could make that happen."

Katara laughed. "I know, right? Trust me, you think I'm scary when I'm on a roll? You should see Mom. But yeah, Dad wasn't too happy with the idea, but trust me, _he bent. _Gran-Gran thought it was hysterical, and I'm pretty sure Sokka's been putting together his act ever since."

"Heh…Sokka would like that, wouldn't he?"

Katara sighed. "Yeah, he would." She gave Azula a squeeze, and Azula gave one back. "To family, blood or not."

Azula nodded. "To family."

From behind them, came the sound of a cleared throat. They turned, and found Colonel Kotaro standing before them. He bowed, a bow that they returned. "My ladies," he said.

"Colonel," they chorused, before Azula said, "Everything going as planned?"

The Colonel put on his most rakish smile, which, from what Azula had seen, was saying something. "As far as we can tell, the spirits of our ancestors still smile upon our enterprise. That said, I've been informed by Captain Fujita," that being, their ship's captain, "that we are within an hour of landfall. Thus," he turned to Katara, and bowed once more, "I must respectfully request the demonstration of your powers that you promised, my lady."

Katara giggled. "You know, Zula," she said, "I think I'm going to get used to this whole _my lady _business."

Azula rolled her eyes. "You would."

"As for your request, Colonel," she said, turning back to Kotaro, "if you don't mind, sit back, and enjoy the show."

The Colonel bowed. "Oh, trust me, my lady, I intend to." They exchanged bows once more, before he turned back to the men assembled on the deck. "_You boys ready for a show?!"_

They answered with a raucous cheer, and three deafening renditions of _banzai. _

The two girls turned back around, just as the distant shore began to peak out of the horizon.

"Well," Azula said, stepping back and giving an ostentatious bow, "your audience awaits."

A wolfish smile spread across Katara's face, and Azula saw, once more, just why her brother had fallen for the girl.

"In that case," Katara said, her arms beginning to move, "I don't dare disappoint them."

And with that, Azula watched, duly impressed, as Katara of the Southern Water Tribes showed the Fire Nation exactly what a master waterbender could do. Which was why, when watchers on the shore should have seen the leading line of ships, all they saw was a thick bank of fog.

* * *

That really has always been my little pet theory about the Ember Island Players. I mean, seriously, a troupe that bad? There's something more going on there.

For those playing the home game, _owari _is a form of Japanese comedy, involving two guys who basically try to out word-play each other. Traditionally, it's kind of a street performance, and apparently, if you speak Japanese, it's hysterical. Think Abbott and Costello, if you're American, or whatever your local equivalent is if you're not. As for _kyōgen, _it's another form of Japanese comedy, older and taking place on a stage. It's typically very low-brow and generally pretty dirty, kind of like _kabuki, _only with a lot more dick jokes. For some reason, in my mind, Zuko would enjoy that kind of stuff.

Moving on! In the next chapter, the Fire Lord orders the charge. Stay tuned!


	91. THE FIRE LORD IV

THE FIRE LORD

THE BRIEFINGS HAD BEEN HELD, THE ORDERS HAD BEEN GIVEN, THE TROOPS HAD BEEN POSITIONED, THE HOSPITALS HAD BEEN SET UP, THE RUNNERS HAD BEEN GATHERED, SHIFTING NERVOUSLY FROM FOOT-TO-FOOT LIKE WOLVES PREPARING TO POUNCE. All that was left was to stand on his hill, drink his tea, and wait.

Iroh sighed. _Once more into the breach, my friends, once more. _Everything hinged on the coming battle, possibly the most important battle of his life. If he could smash through the troops arrayed before him, his momentum could easily carry him into the city itself. The mutiny would be thrown into disarray, the initiative would be snatched from the jaws of the rebels. The Northern Water Tribe would arrive to find a war already won, and could be brought to terms, while the Southern Water Tribes swarming down on the coast, threatening Omashu, could be dealt with at his leisure.

In other words, if he won, there was hope, and if he didn't, he would have no choice but to face the Avatar, one-on-one, like some hero out of legend.

He shook his head, sipped his tea, and tried to imagine himself in such a role. _A fat old man, going up against a teenage girl. _It was all he could do to prevent himself from laughing. _Well, to be fair, I'm not quite so fat these days… _He made a face, as the thought that war, apparently, was good for him, floated up into his mind. _Gods forbid. _

Slowly, carefully, sipping his tea, he scanned the battlefield, taking it all in. Once, the line of forts that made up the Second Wall of Ba Sing Se had run over this ground. That was where his enemy stood, on a long, sloping line of ridges. It was a good position, he had to admit; it would force him to attack uphill, and negate some of the advantages he had in cohesion and training. It also said that his enemy was led by good, smart men, who knew that they didn't have to win, but, rather, _all they had to do was not lose._

Which made him shrug, and sip some more tea. _Can't always face fools, can we, old man?_

The enemy's line stretched from one edge of his vision to the other, sitting astride the quickest route to the city, too big a force to sidestep without giving the Water Tribe army time to come up and hit his flank. About two-thirds of the army was dressed in mottled greens and browns, Earth Kingdom rebels, no doubt of varying degrees of experience and training, though all probably of equal determination. The left third of the line (_or my right third, _he thought with a chuckle) was scarlet-and-black, mutineers, flying their unique flags, red suns upon fields of white. All along the line, tanks were deployed, and the artillery seemed to be almost entirely Fire Nation.

He looked up, towards the skies. Over each line, his and theirs, airships maneuvered, preparing for the charge, though he had far more, which, sadly, was negated by the massive force of air bison-mounted Air Nomads. _That…will be a problem. _His hope was that his aerial forces could at least hold on long enough for his ground forces to break through, but…

He shrugged. _We'll see. It's all in the hands of the gods now._

"Your Majesty?"

He turned, one eyebrow up, one down. General Ikeda stood before him, good old reliable General Ikeda. _Even if he hated me, he'd follow me, because he is a soldier, and that is what he does. If I start losing men like him, I'm done._

Ikeda bowed, a bow that Iroh returned. "Yes, General?"

"Your Majesty, everything is ready, everything has been checked. Shall we sound the advance?"

Iroh sighed, his heart heavy. He felt very, very old, older than usual, even, which should have been impossible, but, then again…

_This is the time for impossible things, isn't it? _

"Yes," he said, his voice sounding, not like a Fire Lord's, but like that of the old man that he was, "I think we shall, General. May our ancestors smile on us, and may the gods be with us. _Banzai._"

Ikeda bowed. "_Banzai, _Your Majesty."

The signal was given. The horns blew. The drums rumbled. Tanks roared to life. Artillery creaked. Fire began to fly through the air. The army advanced, what could quite possibly, he had to confront the chance, be the last army to ever march under a Fire Lord. Men shouted and cheered. Fire began to fly back, fire and earth, and in the sky, air bison began to dive for the attack.

And in the midst of it all, standing on a hill not nearly far enough back for his generals' comfort, stood the Fire Lord, Tokugawa Iroh, sipping his cups of tea and rattling off orders in a calm, smooth, placid voice.

* * *

_And thus, it begins. _The beginning of the end. The line in the sand. The final climax is just around the corner, and the fate of the world rests upon the edge of a knife.

Pretty thrilling stuff, right? And oh, yes, your eyes don't deceive you; I totally swiped a line from Shakespeare up there, because I'm a dork, and my wife loves it when I get all _Shakespearean. _

That's all for today. It's amazing; I totally didn't plan for this to serve as the last chapter of a day's updates, but somehow, it worked. Pretty fucking awesome, right? Sometimes, I manage to impress even myself. *rolls eyes*

Moving on! In the next chapter, Sokka is himself, for the first time in a while. Stay tuned!


	92. SOKKA VII

SOKKA

"DID I EVER TELL YOU GUYS ABOUT THE _STINK AND SINK?_"

For a few moments, there was no response, merely the breathless way that air moved around in the Crystal Catacombs. Somewhere, water was dripping, a steady beat, like blood pulsing through a vein. _Drip…drop…drip…drop. _It was soothing, in a weird, vaguely creepy sort of way. Sokka frowned, running his hand across the rough, jagged rocks of the walls. _Kind of like everything down here. Soothing, yet weird and vaguely creepy. _He chuckled softly to himself. _Soo-ird-py. I like it. I better write that down; Zula will like it. _He reached for his back pocket, where he kept his _Journal O'Quips, _and sighed when he discovered that he had, naturally, left it in his other pants. _Damn it…shouldn't have jinxed it with that demon-spawn Hama. _

Finally, someone answered. It was Suki, who sounded a bit lost as she asked, "Come again?"

Sighing, he tore his gaze away from the wall he had been examining. _It really is beautiful down here. _The Crystal Catacombs had proved to be everything the legends and tales of the Earth Kingdom said they were, and more. They were breathtakingly beautiful, almost beyond the ability of words to describe, a seemingly endless serious of tunnels and caverns, one leading to the other and back again, the walls threaded with crystals that glittered so brightly in the dark that their torches were, for the moment, a bit superfluous. Even Toph had been amazed. Sure, she was blind, but as she had told them, _Just as I can't comprehend what you're seeing, you guys can't even __**begin **__to fathom what __**I'm **__seeing._

_ Which, _Sokka felt, _is fair enough. _Scratching at the back of his neck, he turned around to Suki, doing a quick check around the room. _Alright, there's Toph, poking around like a kid trying to find their birthday presents…and there's Asami, standing by Suki, looking like they were just deep in discussion…_

_ Heh…and me, standing here petting the walls like some sort of deranged doofus. Which, _he supposed, _isn't a bad way to describe me, really._

_ But, back to the discussion at hand…_

"The _sink-and-stink. _I ever tell any of you guys about that?"

He spoke in Guangzhou, which meant that Suki had to do translation duty for Asami. Putonghua would've been better, but no matter how many times Azula had threatened him with their mini chalkboard, his Putonghua never seemed to get better than _ew. _

Suki, meanwhile, was shaking her head. "I can't say that you have. What about it?"

"Well," he began, half-turning back to the wall, running his hand over the rocks, tracing the veins of crystal with his fingertips, "you know the big river that runs through Ba Sing Se?"

Suki scrunched up her face, probably drawing up a mental map. "Yeah. The…what was it called again?"

"Heh…the _Ba Sing Se River, _oddly enough."

Suki laughed. "Oh, right, now I remember why I promptly forget about it every time." Asami said something, and Suki giggled. "Asami's curious as to which came first, the river or the city."

Sokka shrugged. "The pig-chicken, no doubt."

"Huh?"

"It works if you don't think about it."

"Sadly, it appears that I did?"

"Well, there's you problem. Though, the first step towards recovery is admitting that you have one."

Suki huffed and rolled her eyes, saying something to Asami that sounded suspiciously like, _This guy, right? _Turning back to Sokka, she said, "So, _stink-and-sink. _What's up with that?"

"Right. Well, the river flows from out of the northern mountains, through the city, and across the plain until it hits the sea at this place called _Chameleon Bay, _which, in a fit of imagination, is enclosed by some land that looks like a chameleon trying and failing to eat its own tail." He put on a smirk, and shot it Suki's way. "Not very imaginative, your earthy types are."

Suki snapped her fingers through the air. "Yeah, whatever. So, _story._"

He sighed. "No appreciation for flow. Anyways, point is, during the War, before the Fall, different Southern Water Tribes used to take turns keeping that bay closed, so the Fire Nation couldn't float right up to the city. It was during one my tribe's turns that my dad, who, of course, was in charge, came up with this brilliant little way of stopping Fire Nation ships without having to fight every single one that showed up. In essence, it consisted of making these big stink bombs, just filled with whatever they could get their hands on, and hurling them onto the ships. The smell would be so bad, that the enemy would either jump off, or get sick. The ones that didn't turn back, our guys would board and try and capture them. If all went well, we'd sink the things, right there in the river, which would-"

"Make the river harder to navigate for the Fire Nation," Suki finished, nodding, looking impressed. "And because you had waterbenders, you could clear it again, any time you needed to."

Sokka turned on her and flashed his best grin. "Exactly. See? We _stunk 'em, _and then we _sunk 'em!_" He burst into hysterical laughter, giggling so hard tears came to his eyes as he held his side and slapped his knee. "See? Brilliant, _and _funny. Best of all worlds, really."

Naturally, once he calmed himself down, he saw that no one was laughing but him. _Well, _he groaned to himself, _except for Toph, though, from the look on her face, she's laughing __**at me, **__not __**with me. **_His shoulders slumping, he rubbed the back of his neck, asking in a sad voice, "Nothing, eh?"

Suki and Asami gave each other quick looks, their expressions distinctly unimpressed. "Well," Suki said, shrugging, "maybe it makes more sense in Yuupik…?"

He huffed, trying not to feel let-down. "Yeah, I guess so…that, or you guys have no sense of humor. Zula thought it was funny."

Suki relayed that to Asami, who laughed so suddenly she snorted. He understood what she said in response just fine, though, which seemed to be something along the lines of, _Yeah, I can see that. She has a fucked-up sense of humor, too. _When Suki turned to relay that back, he stopped her with a raised hand. "Yeah, yeah, my Putonghua may be shit, but I got that one." Putting his hands on his hips, he rolled his eyes theatrically towards the ceiling. "You know, if you guys would-"

He never got to finish his thought. Right at that moment, the world trembled and shook, and steady, almost rhythmic tremors began shuddering through the earth. There were big, dull _booms, _and in his mind's eye, Sokka could almost see what was going on above.

"I guess that's our cue," Suki observed. "More jokes later?"

"Damn straight," he said, picking up the torches and passing them back out so that they could get them re-lit. _Never a damn firebender around when I need one, _he griped as they struggled with their flints. The torches finally lit (except for Toph, who obviously didn't need one), Sokka held his aloft, watching as Toph opened the path to their final tunnel. "Everybody ready?"

They all nodded, Suki looking pale, Asami looking like she just wanted to get it over with, and Toph looking bored. _I wonder how I look? Probably like a doof. Though…definitely a handsome doof. After all, ugly doofs don't have two princesses on their life resume._

He looked over his two companions' shoulders. "Off you go, Toph."

She flipped him the bird as she began to tear her way out of sight. "Already gone, Dork-Face."

He was left with Suki and Asami, contemplating the sudden silence as Toph vanished into the earth. _I really should say something…something meaningful, something impactful, something that will live on in history…_

_ Or, I could settle with something stupid. _Deciding that he should probably stick with what he knew best, he cleared his throat, and said, speaking his tribal dialect in his most haughty, over-wrought voice, "Well, I'm sure you're all wondering why I've gathered you here today. In essence, I wish to make an announcement: Once, I, Sokka, son of Hakoda, was known far and wide as the _meat-and-sarcasm guy, _who once got trapped in a crevice after getting out-smarted by a baby saber-toothed-moose-lion in an incident that I made Azula swear on her ancestors never to tell my sister. Sadly, after several personal tragedies, a war, and having to do my best impression of my sister for over a year, _Sokka the Meat-and-Sarcasm Guy _has been on hiatus. Well, _no more. _As soon as we kick this Long Feng guy's ass and after Korra puts this war to bed, I will never be serious, ever again. I'll pal around with my royal girlfriend and be _Sokka, the Meat-and-Sarcasm Guy _for evermore. Any questions?"

If there had been crickets in such a subterranean labyrinth, they would've chirped. Asami gave him a thumbs-up, and Suki just looked bemused.

He chuckled at his little joke, and turned to the opening Toph had made for them. "In essence," he said, dropping into his rocky, badly mangled Putonghua, "let's get this show on the road."

And thus, they did.

* * *

The inimitable Lady Kaelyn and I were talking about a story she had in mind, when I asked her how she was enjoy Book Three. She told me she liked it, but it really needed more of _Sokka, the Meat-and-Sarcasm Guy. _I realized in an instant that this was so. Sure, Sokka had his reasons for toning it down (especially in Book Two; he _was _having to stand in for Katara, after all), but still, it was time to start letting him filter back in. Thus, this chapter, which I think provides a much-needed moment of levity, what with all the shit I'm dumping on you guys.

For those playing the home game, you will all be thankful to hear that I know have the final act of Book Three plotted out, and I'm almost finished writing it. I'm feeling really wiggy about it; like, I'm excited and proud of what I've accomplished, but I'm having so much fun I _really _don't want to finish. But, one must do what one must do, in the service of the story.

Fun Fact: I owe the final breakthrough on the story to my wife, as I owe most things in my life. Yesterday evening, she went to a Scentsy party that one of my old high school friends was throwing (not because I smell, but because she works with fifteen-year-olds, and they're _rank_). I had to drive her, because she'd heard there was wine on offer, and my friend's apartment is a real bitch to get to, if you don't already know the way. Thus, seeing as such events are very much _No Boys Allowed, _I ended up sitting in my car, reading a book, because I didn't feel like driving all the way home and back again. Sadly, I finished said book (which was _Our Game, _by John le Carre, who is awesome, and you should be reading him), and, to add insult to injury, the radio was kind of sucking.

Long story short, my mind wandered, and by the time my wife came out and asked if we could go home (my friend's housekeeping skills leave something to be desired, and my wife's skin was crawling), I had it all figured out. Cool, right?

Moving on! In the next chapter, Kuvira has her eyes on the sky. Stay tuned!


	93. THE COMMANDER II

THE COMMANDER

THE ASSAULT CAME AT DAWN. It was heralded by a blowing of horns and a riotous banging of drums. Just before the attack came, the enemy screamed, _Zhong-yi! _There was a furious, deafening clamor, as soldiers rattled spears and banged swords on shields, while earthbenders began gathering forms and the earth began to tremble. Then, marching to a rhythmic chant, the reformed armies of the Earth Kingdom charged.

They hurled themselves at the western portions of the Inner Wall first. Commander Cheng Kuvira saw this, recognized it as the feint that it was. She garrisoned those portions of the wall as thinly as possible, holding the bulk of her strength in reserve. When the sun truly broke over the horizon, the rest of the assault came. The cry went up, _Zhong-yi, _and then the boys in brown and green hurled themselves at the eastern wall, boiling out of the sun.

Kuvira was ready for this. Needless to say, the wall held.

On and on it went, how long, Kuvira couldn't even begin to guess. Time bent and swayed, stretched and contracted, until, finally, it snapped, becoming meaningless in every possible sense of the term. All there was, was the battle, the sweat and the dust, the earth shaking and trembling as if it was alive. Massive rocks and boulders jumped up and over the walls, hurling themselves down from the sky, most smashed to pieces before they landed by earth thrown in the opposite direction. Earthbender dueled earthbender, and arrows flew so thick they seemed to be alive, a thick, impenetrable cloak that darkened the weak sunlight of early morning.

Kuvira stood in the middle of it, rattling off orders. She had trained the Dai Li well, and none that she could see panicked, or even hesitated. She watched, pleased, as any doubts and equivocations faded away in the searing fire of war. _Surely, _she thought, as she beckoned the earth up to her, reaching into the flesh of Mother Earth and wrapping it around a portion of the wall that looked suddenly weak and flimsy, _my men finally know the score. It is either us, or them._

_ We win, or we die. Simple as that._

She didn't fool herself into thinking that the enemy would show quarter.

"What're they saying, Commander?"

She paused, wiping seat from her brow as she quaffed water from the skin the agent had brought her. The water was thick and warm, with an earthy taste that left a hint of iron and mud on her tongue. That didn't bother her, though. _It is water; that's all it needs to be._

"What was that?" she asked, running her sleeve over her lips.

The agent gestured towards the walls, towards the enemy bubbling and boiling like an angry flood just beyond. "The chant. What're they saying?"

She tilted her head, listened. _Bu-pa-ku! Bu-pa-nan! Bu-pa-si! _"It's an old Imperial Army battle song. Keeps the troops' spirits up, keeps them moving in time, coordinates the earthbenders. It means, _Fear no pain, fear no challenge, fear no death._"

The agent nodded, looking appreciative. "Appropriate, Commander."

She nodded. "Indeed." A movement caught her eye, up in the sky. She looked up and out, saw it right away. "Do you have a telescope, Agent?"

He answered by handing over what she required. She shoved the waterskin into his arms, extended the scope, put it to her eye. What she saw brought her no relief, and the first twinge of fear she had felt in weeks pricked at her heart. There, plain as day, was an air bison, some bald old Air Nomad at the helm. In the saddle, sat a girl, how old, Kuvira couldn't be sure, but she was young, and Water Tribe to boot. She extended the scope even further, tried her best to get a decent view of the girl's face, but it was for naught.

"Gods-damn it," she muttered, shutting the scope with an angry _slap _before handing it back to the Agent and retrieving her waterskin. "It looks like the Avatar is circling the battle."

"Surely she will not intervene in a purely internal Earth Kingdom conflict."

She sighed, shaking her head. "From what I've heard, we can't be sure with this Avatar." She scanned the walls, performed a mental inventory on their stockpile of pre-stacked rocks and boulders, did some math as she tried to figure out how many arrows they had left. Her mind performed a thousand-thousand mental calculations, and she didn't like a single answer that revealed itself to her.

"Send word to the Palace, tell them that I need every available body, wounded or not, anyone who can bend, or at least carry a spear."

"Including the Chancellor's personal guards?"

She nodded, feeling a bit grim. "Including the Chancellor's personal guards, except for a half-dozen or so. He'll understand, trust me. If the Avatar intervenes, we'll need everything we've got to fight her off."

The agent bowed. "At once, Commander." He bowed once more, and was gone.

For the next hour, the battle ebbed and flowed, back-and-forth over the walls. Breaches were made, fought over, plugged, sometimes by Kuvira herself. She was the whirlwind that day, and she felt no shame in taking pride in her accomplishments. No one could stand before her, and her enemies fell like wheat before the scythe.

But she never could keep her mind entirely on the battle. She always had to keep one eye diverted, fixed upon the sky, watching the air bison circling around-and-around, as if searching, poking, prodding, for her weakness, for the perfect moment to strike.

_I see you, Avatar. I see you._

_ I'm ready._

* * *

Interestingly enough, out of all the characters that I've either introduced or invented, my wife has decided she despises Kuvira the most. Yoshihito was little more than a child, Jiro is that special kind of villain who has enough self-awareness to be interesting, and Kojima's just cool, but Kuvira? I believe the wife put it best: _Kuvira's just heartless, and I can't stand that. _Words of wisdom, those.

For those playing the home game, the chant the Earth Kingdom boys are shouting is actually the motto of Taiwan's Marine Corps; I just thought it sounded unbelievably badass, and it scans well as a chant. As for _Zhong-yi, _it's the motto of Taiwan's navy, and means, _Loyalty and justice! _Appropriate, I felt.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Jiro goes further down the rabbit hole. Stay tuned!


	94. JIRO VII

JIRO

"WHY ISN'T OUR ARTILLERY FIRING YET?"

Jiro rode nervously back and forth, the komodo-rhino beneath him quivering like a coiled spring. _Coiled spring _was actually a good description for his current state. He felt almost on fire with nerves, like he'd never been before. It wasn't fear; no, it was never that, or, at least, _he would never admit it. _No, it was just nerves. It only felt like fear because he'd never been nervous before.

_Yeah, that's it. That __**must **__be it. I can't be afraid._

_ It is not in my nature to be afraid._

_ I am Matsuura Jiro. I am the Dragon._

He jerked at his reins, his mount bellowing with anger. He pulled the animal around, until he was right next to his second-in-command, looming over the man, hoping that the fire that burned in his heart was shown clearly in his eyes.

He couldn't tell. Colonel Nishijima, for all that he was thin, bald, wiry, small oval face hidden behind thick, wire-framed glasses, seemed unimpressed. "I beg pardon, General?"

Jiro jerked an arm wildly out towards the sea, where the thick fog was rolling in. His hand shook at the end of his arm, but he didn't notice. "Don't you see that fog? It's not natural for this area, much less this time of year. _Why aren't we firing?!"_

Nishijima took a deep breath, let it out, looking like all he wanted to do was pinch his nose and go home. "Because, _General, _as you may have noticed, not only are our forces not of the size we want, but neither are our stocks of ammunition. The vast majority of supplies are always ear-marked for combat units overseas, along with the vast majority of trained firebenders. What we have here is the bottom of the barrel, and we need to maintain what resources we have for the battle itself, not waste it firing wildly into a mist, nevermind that I'd rather we didn't expose our positions to the battle-hardened firebenders that are currently bearing down on us." Nishijima took another deep breath, and pressed on. "Which, if you remember, we covered in the briefing this morning."

From his own komodo-rhino, upon which he was perched in a strange manner, one leg hooked around the pommel of his saddle, Kojima chuckled, holding a lit match to the tip of his cigarette. "That's true, my lord. He _did _tell you all this. You even agreed to it."

_**"SHUT UP!" **_Jiro snarled at the man, before rounding on Nishijima. _This fucking __**fool. **__I should burn him __**alive **__for his insolence! _How Jiro managed to resist, he would never know. He rounded back on Nishijima, and was pleased to see that the man looked disturbed, not bothering to consider where the expression had come from.

"Listen here," he growled, low and venomous, jabbing a finger into Nishijima's chest. "The enemy is bearing down on us, _in force. _We must meet them here at the shore, and smash them before they are established. I want you to open fire, right here, right now, break up their formation. _Am I clear?"_

Nishijima gave himself a shake, narrowed his eyes, squared his shoulders. "Sir, I must object. Personally, I don't like this plan at all, nor do I like our chances of getting fire through that mist, much less hitting anything."

Jiro saw red. The world quivered and shook. Everything seemed the color of blood, as if someone had sliced open his forehead and sent hot scarlet seeping over his eyes. For a brief, unsettling moment (_he would never use the word terrifying_), he was convinced that was exactly what had happened. He could feel the pain, like fire slashed across his skin. He could feel his skin break and peel apart, could feel the blood gushing from his veins. He could feel-

He shook his head. _Focus, Jiro, __**focus! **__This is your moment. This is your __**karma. **_

Leaning close to Nishijima, so close that the man had to lean back slightly, Jiro put on his most predatory grin. _"I. Don't. __**Care. **__What. You. __**THINK!**_ Follow my orders, _or face the consequences!_"

Nishijima frowned, and sighed. "As you command, General." He turned around in his saddle, gestured at the trumpeter. "Give the signal to fire when ready." There was a chorus of _yes, sir, _and then the trumpets were blaring and the drums were rumbling, and Jiro turned around to watch the earth turn into fire.

It was a glorious sight. He breathed deep, his head swimming as he took in the heady scent of fire and smoke and things catching alight. He watched, as fire-tipped arrows flew, wave-after-wave, into the mist. Fireballs sprang forth from the benders along the shore, and catapults hurled stones coated in oil and set alight hurtling off into the sea.

Jiro watched, and was satisfied. "What do you think, Kojima?"

Behind and to his left, just beyond the edge of his vision, Kojima shrugged. How Jiro knew this, he couldn't be sure, but it was what it was. "Impressive, my lord. Though, one does wonder…"

Jiro frowned. "Wonder what?"

"Well…"

Jiro never knew if his army's fire had an effect. He never thought to ask, and didn't get the chance to ponder during the resulting battle. Right as Kojima sucked in some air, as if he was about to speak, fire came roaring out of the mist. It fell like rain from an angry god, as if Agni Himself had come down to inflict death and judgment upon His Nation. Though, that couldn't be true.

_Some of the fire was blue._

All feelings of triumph and attainment vanished like tears in the rain, drowned out by screams and bellowed orders and cries for the medics. Jiro froze, as if his very body had turned to stone. He didn't know what to do, couldn't think. This was madness, it didn't make any sense.

He looked to his right, to Nishijima, but the Colonel wasn't paying attention, was too busy rattling off orders, sending runners hither-and-yon. Jiro blinked, turned to Kojima. He had to find out what the man was going to say. He didn't know what, but he needed whatever it was.

_He needed it desperately, more than he'd ever needed anything before._

Only Kojima wasn't there.

_Maybe he never was…_

Jiro shook the thought away. _No, that's can't be true. He's there. He's somewhere. He's just toying with me._

_ Any other explanation would be crazy._

The mist was beginning to touch the shoreline. Jiro watched, entranced, as the mist turned suddenly into water, water that was sharp and deadly as a wall of freshly sharpened spear-points. The water worked alongside the fire, both orange and blue, and began to tear apart the troops massed on the beach, many of whom were already breaking, throwing down their weapons and running for the rear.

Rage rose anew in Jiro chest. _Cowards! Dirty, filthy, stinking, snot-nosed __**cowards! **__How __**dare **__they try and run out on me! _He drew his _katana _forth, waved it through the air as ships hit the beach, soldiers with white cloths tied about their helmets pouring onto the land. "Nishijima! _**NISHIJIMA!"**_

Nishijima rounded on him, looking furious. _**"WHAT?!"**_

Jiro felt himself seize up with anger, but forced it down. "Sound the charge; we're sending in our reserves."

Nishijima shook his head. "Sir, I must object. A fourth of our force still hasn't arrived, for Agni's sake, and we've had no word from them. I recommend immediate withdrawal to a more defensible position."

Jiro smiled. "Is that really your recommendation?"

Nishijima bowed from his saddle. "It is, sir."

"Good." Jiro struck quickly, hurling his fire out. The smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils, and thus, Colonel Nishijima screamed, and was no more.

Jiro looked at the rest of the officers, who, he noted, looked suitable terrified. "Any other _recommendations?_"

There were none. The assembled soldiers drew their weapons, many rubbing talismans and mumbling prayers, and when Jiro shouted _banzai, _they gave a half-hearted cheer and followed him into battle.

Quite a few turned tail and ran, before battle was even joined, though Jiro didn't worry about it. Instead, he just pushed it from his mind, and aimed himself like a javelin at the center of the rapidly forming enemy line.

* * *

You know, Girl with the Dragon Heart, you're absolutely right: It just doesn't feel like one is beating up on the Fire Nation without someone of royal blood losing their shit. It's...like...pretty much a trope at this point.

Not that it isn't fun to do it, because it totally is, especially when one removes _Crazy Azula _from the equation and is forced to do something a bit different.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Tahno rides to the rescue! Stay tuned!


	95. TAHNO

TAHNO

THERE WERE A LOT OF THINGS THAT TAHNO DIDN'T LIKE ABOUT HIS CURRENT STATE IN LIFE. One of them was that he was, indeed, riding into the middle of a war. He wasn't afraid of war, no more than anybody else, and he had even managed to oppose the war in a war that made it look like he had been for it all along. _So, you know, kudos to me. _Still, the military life tended to play _hell _with one's manicure, and nevermind what it was doing to his hair.

He was also bounding along at speeds that were far too fast, atop a bucking buffalo-yak, towards the front of a huge, galloping mass of several thousand other buffalo-yak-mounted Northern Water Tribesmen. _And that's not even mentioning the countless foot soldiers not far behind us. And thank the gods I'm not in stuck with __**those **__poor bastards._

_ My pedicure would never recover, gods forbid._

He was also hungry, and he hadn't been able to shave in a few days, which had left his face rough and himself looking like some sort of bizarrely well-bred pirate. Oh, and he was riding headfirst into a battle whose dimensions no one was sure of, and where the enemy was led by the Dragon of the West himself.

He looked over to his right, towards the overgrown man-child who was holding on for dear life on the buffalo-yak beside his. _And then there's the company…_

He sighed, rolling his eyes to the heavens. _Well, can't have everything, can we? _

"Tahno!"

He groaned (_silently, of course; his next-door neighbor – so to speak – was unfortunately high-born and well-connected_) and tried not to roll his eyes once more. "Yes, Hahn?"

Hahn turned his head slightly, looking at Tahno out of the corner of his eye. "Were you listening to me at all?"

Tahno put on his best smile. "Why, of course, old friend. Why wouldn't I?"

Hahn made a sour face. "Well, you haven't said anything in, like, forever…"

Tahno nodded at his mount. "In my defense, old chum, I am rather preoccupied at the moment."

Hahn nodded. "Yeah, I suppose so…still, did you hear anything?"

Tahno hadn't heard a word, because he hadn't been paying attention. Well-born and well-connected he might have been, Hahn was far from the sharpest tool in the shed, a tad on the boorish side, and, worst of all in Tahno's eyes, the man seemed completely incapable of dressing himself in anything even remotely tolerable. _Plus, he's just an utter __**bore. **_Still, Tahno could guess. "You were talking about the rumors that His Majesty is going to name that Sokka fellow as his heir, right?"

Hahn seemed to turn almost green; Tahno found it fascinating. "Yeah…you don't buy it, do you?"

_Of course I do, because I'm not a fool. Unlike you, who wasn't even aware that your fiancée was pulling that Southern barbarian through her bedroom window damn near every night, even though the whole damn city was painfully aware. _Though, Tahno supposed, in Hahn's defense, Tahno hadn't lifted a finger to tell his so-called friend, instead opting to begin befriending the suddenly favored _Lout from the South._ Thus, he just shrugged, and said, "Oh, I wouldn't worry about it, old chap."

The greenness faded from Hahn's face, and he beamed with delight. "That's exactly what I've been saying! I mean, it's obvious that _I'm _the best choice. I honestly can't fathom a single reason why Old Man Arnook wouldn't choose to adopt me into the Royal Household!"

Tahno rolled his eyes. "And you wonder why you'll never by High King."

Hahn shot him a quick look from under his helmet. "What was that?"

Tahno shrugged and urged his buffalo-yak on. "I said, _Gods only know how I'll deal with this helmet hair tonight._"

Hahn frowned, but nodded and accepted Tahno's explanation. It was, Tahno felt, an easy enough mistake to make.

After all, that problem really was foremost in his thoughts.

* * *

Oh, Tahno. By the way, thanks for requesting him, Lady Kaelyn; I never would've thought of him otherwise. Once I'd had one injection of Tahno, my story needed at least one more. I think it was worth it.

For those playing the home game, Iroh's basically fighting a Waterloo. He's got the NWT coming up from the south, but if he can beat the army in front of him, he'll easily be able to turn south and smash the NWT as it comes up. If not..._eh._

Moving on! In the next chapter, Katara rocks socks. Stay tuned!


	96. KATARA VI

KATARA

IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE KATARA HAD FELT SO ALIVE.

She had been in a lot of fights in her life, fought in more battles than she cared to think about. She had bent at her enemies using streams, rivers, ponds, lakes. She had turned everything from the dew on early morning grass to the sweat on her skin into a weapon. She had, over a lifetime, attuned her skills and her senses, taken a natural talent and honed it through hours and hours of practice, until even the water coursing through the veins of a flower was an instrument of war in her hands.

Never once, in all her life, though, had she ever gone into battle with Mother Ocean itself at her back.

It was exhilarating, like nothing she had ever experienced before. She felt as if, for the first time in her life, she had achieved true mastery over her element. The ocean pulsed in her hands, coursed through her blood, burned in her heart. She wielded it like a living, breathing thing. She lived and breathed through it, and it lived and breathed through her.

And nothing could stand in her way.

Everything had gone off beautifully. They had lost not a single ship in the approach, and by the time the soldiers on the beach had begun to recover from her wave, she was already among them. Her with her water, Azula with her fire, the soldiers with their swords and their spears and their flames. The line before them bent, buckled, broke. Anyone who fled was allowed to. Anyone who threw down their weapons was pushed into the sand and left behind. Anyone who fought, died.

Needless to say, it wasn't long before many were deciding that the first two options looked the most appealing.

The most awe-inspiring part for Katara, though, was watching Azula fight. She didn't _bend _fire so much as she made _art _with it. Katara loved her husband, loved to see him work with his element, but for all of his skill, Katara had to admit that her sister-in-law was something else, something more, something…_indefinable. _

And it was made all the better, in Katara's opinion, by the mere act of watching blue water and blue fire meld and twist and turn together, side-by-side, slowly but surely bringing sanity back into the world, for all that the world was, just now, a field of fire and smoke and steam.

"Katara!"

She turned towards the sound of her name, uttered in a woman's voice. She saw Azula, pointing up the shore, followed the girl's arm until she saw the enemy charging down to meet them.

Her eyes narrowed, and rage filled her heart.

_You._

"He took the bait!" she shouted back, in Inuktitut, the language she and Azula had agreed to use on the battlefield.

Azula nodded, smiling savagely. "Damn straight he did."

"Remember," Katara shouted, "don't engage him; we don't want him to try and run."

Azula laughed. "No promises!"

They dived back into the fray, winning, but careful not to win _too much. _After all, the needed Matsuura fully committed, his troops as confused as possible, before the trap was sprung.

That said, when she saw the cavalrymen crest the ridge high above, the sun glittering from seemingly numberless spear-points being leveled for the charge, blood-red suns snapping in the wind on pure white fields, white sashes bound around helmets, she felt relieved.

After all, she was getting tired of holding back.

* * *

It was _definitely _time for a bit of payback. On that, I believe we can all agree.

You know...I'm trying to think of when Katara bent with the ocean itself on the show...I know she _kind of/sort of _did it in, like, the second episode, but that's all I'm coming up with. Feel free to tell me if I'm wrong.

Well, that's all for today! Man, it's like I planned these cliffhangers beforehand. I totally didn't, but hey, let's all agree that I did, okay? _Okay._

Moving on! In the next chapter, Bolin fights. Stay tuned!


	97. BOLIN IV

BOLIN

THE BATTLE, FROM WHAT BOLIN COULD SEE, WAS NOT GOING AS WELL AS IT COULD'VE BEEN.

_Though, to be fair, _he admitted to himself, _I can't see all that much from where I'm standing. _Smoke, great thick, billowing masses of it, writhing almost as if alive, obscured everything, mixing with choking clouds of dust until Bolin could barely breathe. For that matter, he could barely think, barely even hear the sound of his own voice inside his own head. Up above, barely glimpsed through the fog of dust and smoke, airships groaned and roared and danced about and around and into each other, the comparatively tiny dots of air bison fluttering around them. A few had even come down upon the battlefield, the armies grappling with each other around the wreckage.

If the battle in the air was loud enough to rattle teeth, the fighting on the ground was even worse. Bolin's head ached from the din, his muscles trembling as he bent and attacked and defended, the earth malleable as mud in his hands. Men screamed and cried and fought and died. Steel clanged and screamed against steel, animals whinnied and bellowed and died. Walls and rivers and geysers of flame shot back and forth all around him, while rocks and boulders came down like a deadly rain. Wounded begged for water, wide-eyed boys begged for mercy, grim-faced boys no older or wiser set their jaws and thought of their mothers. Tanks crashed into and around each other, firing madly, and artillery sent a constant hail of fire crashing into the opposing armies.

It was, in short, a hell unlike any Bolin had ever experienced.

He blinked. A strange lull had occurred around him. Battle was like that sometimes. You would be fighting for your life, and then the fighting would ebb away from you, leaving you standing there, feeling foolish, out of breath, dying of thirst, your stomach rumbling. He didn't know how this had happened, or when, or for how long, or if it was just a trick of the wind, that it only _seemed _like there was a lull. _Maybe I'm dead? _he wondered, before shaking his head and laughing madly at his own foolishness. _That's silly. That kind of crap only happens in the songs._

_ I mean, it would be nice to be in a song, unless I wasn't a named character. Then, you know, fuck that. I don't intend to die a mook._

_ "BOLIN!"_

He turned. He had only just noticed that someone was shaking him by the shoulder. His armor rattled and grinded as he turned, still being shaken, to find Ming before him, wide-eyed, blood pouring from a cut across his brow. Bolin frowned, feeling deeply confused. "Ming? The hell do you want?"

Ming let go of him, pointed back, or, at least, Bolin _thought_ it was back, he couldn't be sure. "What're you doing out here? We're falling back!"

Bolin shook his head. This was impossible. Surely, he was dreaming. "No, we can't. We have to stand, we have to fight."

Ming wasn't having any of it; he seemed to have gone wild at some point. He shook and trembled, his face pale, blood pouring down his face and dripping from the blade of his _jian. _"We are, but we have to fall back to do it."

Bolin looked up the line, or so he hoped, trying to peer through the haze. "Are our red-coated allies breaking?"

Ming shook his head. "No, they're holding firm, but we're not. Too many new recruits, too many guys who haven't been in a real battle. We've got to give a little, or we'll break."

Fear clutched Bolin's heart in ice-cold fingers. "Gods…we haven't, have we? We haven't broken…"

"I don't know," Ming answered, "I think they're committing the reserves, but I can't be sure. All I know is, we're falling back to the secondary position. Someone said you were still fighting out here, so I came to get you, and-"

Suddenly, fire came, three great spheres of it, hurtling towards the two. Bolin moved without thinking, smashing the flames aside with three rapid-fired boulders. He looked through the haze, the smoke and the dust and the blood, he couldn't see the blood, but he could taste it, smell it, that acrid hint of iron that hangs heavy on the skin. He blinked, and realized that Ming was right. The Fire Lord's army was advancing, his own slowly falling back. In good order, sure, but…

_We're not breaking, but we're buckling…oh, gods, we're buckling…_

He thought of the friends he had made, among his own people, among his former enemies, thought of Masakatsu, and of that Colonel in the snow…

_He thought of his brother…_

He fired off a few more boulders, grabbed Ming by the arm, and began dragging him up the ridge. "Come on!" he bellowed. "We have to keep fighting!"

To his credit, Ming nodded, and didn't argue.

They kept fighting, for what felt to Bolin like hours.

His part of the line didn't break. He was very proud of that.

Sadly, his wasn't the only part of the line.

* * *

Hey, look! Updates! _Finally! _Yeesh. For the lateness of the hour, I apologize profusely. You see, what ha-happened was...every couple of months or so, I get smacked in the face by a random night of insomnia. Like, it takes me for-fucking-_ever _to get to sleep. Well, last night was one of those, so I ended up spending most of today trying to get back what I lost. Fortunately, I'm feeling much more like myself now, so, on with the show!

Oh, yeah, the chapter...um...battle! Not going as well as one would hope! That's it, really.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Zuko charges. Stay tuned!


	98. ZUKO V

ZUKO

THEY CRESTED THE FINAL RIDGE IN THE MIDST OF A SEA OF FLEEING SOLDIERS. _Though, _Zuko had to admit to himself, _maybe __**fleeing **__isn't the right word. _He looked around the ramshackle mob, most of whom had ditched their weapons and helmets, and some even their armor, took in the faces that seemed slack with relief, even spotted the occasional smile. _More like __**getting out while the getting was good. **_

He reined in his komodo-rhino as the cavalry he had brought with him began to fall into formation along the backside of the ridge, leaning over to catch the attention of a passing officer, marked out by his _katana. _"Why, I'll be," he said, a smile spreading across his face. "Is that you, Manabe?"

The lieutenant tipped back his helmet, and grinned. "Fuck me sideways. Zuko?"

Zuko laughed, reaching over to tap the arm of the rider next to him. "Check it out, Toshiro. Manabe Akifusa, the worst student at the Academy, in the flesh."

Toshiro chuckled, bowing from his saddle. "Pleasure to see you, Akifusa. Still ducking out early, I see?"

Manabe shrugged, looking as nonchalant as always. "What can I say? Stick with what you do best. And, besides, fuck you, I was _second-to-last _in our class, assholes. That said," he turned to Zuko, "I'm happy to see you, not least because my brother now owes me twenty _yen._"

Zuko couldn't stop smiling. "I'm glad to hear it. How goes the battle?"

Manabe groaned. "Once I saw those two women tearing through the ranks, and saw that that madman Matsuura had completely lost what little mind he had left, I decided it was time to go. That wouldn't happen to be your sister, would it? The one hurling around the blue flames?"

Zuko nodded. "It is, indeed, and the waterbender is my wife."

Manabe whistled appreciatively. "Damn. Don't ever piss her off." He gestured at the full regiment's worth of cavalry forming up around them, as well as the regiment's worth more pouring over the ridge behind them. "I take it that this is the other part of our army, the one that hasn't shown up yet?"

"You would be correct," Toshiro replied, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Hope you don't mind if we borrowed them."

Manabe shook his head. "Not in the least; you guys are welcome to them. Better you than that psychotic Matsuura. You know he talks to himself now? And he burned Colonel Nishijima alive when the Colonel tried to get him to pull back. The past few weeks have been _insane._"

"Well," Zuko said, settling his helmet back on his head and drawing his _katana, _"let's see what we can do about that. Care to join?"

Manabe scoffed. "Fuck that. I'm out of here. Gods be with you."

"And also with you." With that, Zuko forgot about the second-worst student from his class at the Academy, and turned back to Toshiro. "So, Toshiro, it would appear that my sister and my wife intend to have all the fun without us. Shall we do something about that?"

Toshiro had already drawn his _katana. _"Absolutely."

"Good." Zuko turned to the commander of the cavalry regiment that he had…ahem…_borrowed. _"Colonel, sound the charge."

Said Colonel said, "Yes, Your Highness" (_which made Zuko wince, but he powered through it_), drew his own _katana, _gave the signal. The trumpets sounded, blades flashed from scabbards, fire came to life in palms, spears were leveled. Zuko crested the ridge, waved his _katana _through the air, the sun flashing crimson-and-gold along the steel.

_**"BANZAI!" **_he screamed.

Several thousand throats screamed back. _**"BANZAI!"**_

They charged.

* * *

In case you were wondering where Zuko and Toshiro had wandered off to, well, they wandered off to fetch the rest of Jiro's army for him. Because, I mean, it was only polite, you know?

For those playing the home game, does the timeline of travel and stuff work one-hundred-percent? Probably not, but I've decided not to worry too much about it, and I hope you won't, either. Sometimes, plot moves at the speed of your characters, and sometimes your characters just have to move at the speed of plot. Kind of like Appa in the show, you know?

Moving on! In the next chapter, Asami's background comes in handy. Stay tuned!


	99. ASAMI VI

ASAMI

THEY WERE AT AN IMPASSE. Outside, the battle raged, well into its second hour. It had been a good hour or so since they'd split up in the Crystal Catacombs, an hour spent stumbling, bumping into each other, and swearing. Asami had taken great comfort in the swearing. It was something normal, and, besides, for her, it was one more indication of how far she'd come. Somehow, it said more about the changes that had come over her than the bared _jian _sword clutched tightly in her hand.

None of which changed that fact that, for far too long now, they had been creeping round what was once the Imperial Palace of the Earth Emperors, without a single clue as to where to go. _Plus, _she thought, peering around a corner while Suki and Sokka argued over the crude map they'd brought with them in a darkened alcove behind her, _there's no one around, and, thus, no one to ask…_

_ Wait…_

It was like someone had lit a torch in her head. The more she thought about it, the more it was painfully, almost comically obvious. _Stupid little idiot. _It was all she could do to not smack herself in the forehead hard enough to give herself a concussion. _Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

"Hey, guys?"

She didn't look back, but she felt the others look up at her, tearing themselves away from their quiet little argument. Naturally, it was Suki who answered, since Sokka's Putonghua was, to her, borderline unintelligible. "What is it, Asami?"

She thought for a moment about how to phrase what she had to say, came up with nothing special, and decided to go for it. "Where are all the servants?"

There was a long stretch of heavy silence, causing Asami to cast a look over her shoulder. Suki was frowning, her face scrunched up as if she was chewing on something rather tough and gristly. "Well," she said, "surely they were kicked out when the siege started."

Asami shook her head. "A place this big? It would need at least a skeleton staff, in order to even _attempt _to function, and I can't imagine that Dai Li agents have been slaving away in the kitchens this whole time. Trust me," she continued, turning her gaze back to peering around the corner. "If there's anything they taught me at the Girls' Academy, it's how to run a household, and a household even a tenth this size needs servants, and lots of them."

"Yeah," Suki replied, "but how does that help us?"

Asami bit down on a laugh. "Because, dear, servants know all, see all, and if anyone knows where this Long Feng guy is, it'll be them."

"But how do we find them?"

"Oh, that's easy. Bring me that map."

It really was a crude map. They'd had limited time to get this all ready, and hadn't been able to find someone who had any kind of extensive knowledge of the Palace itself, assuming Long Feng had been the kind to leave such a person where they could be easily found by his enemies. That said, what they'd been able to put together was more than adequate for Asami to tap on a spot and say, "Here, that's where we'll find them. I know enough about palaces to know that that's where the servants' quarters are."

Sure enough, they found said servants huddling in their quarters, praying to the gods and fearing slaughter at any moment. Asami was so elated to have been right that she almost kissed her friends, if only for the experience. Her happiness only grew as it turned out that the only servant who would speak to them was the senior one, a wrinkled old man who spoke in High Imperial Putonghua fit for an Emperor and had little love for Long Feng. Asami took the lead, calming his fears and buttering him up with a lifetime of painfully learned courtly courtesies, with the end result that he told them exactly where to go, and how to get there.

It was all pretty simple after that. Asami was so excited, it was hard not to remember that she had to creep, not run, no matter how much the earth shook and trembled beneath her feet, as if it was trying to spur her on.

* * *

That really is something Sokka and Suki might not think of on their own, but Asami, whose family, after all, was _loaded, _would. Servants are a part of life for the rich and powerful and well-born in this kind of world (shit, they're a part of life _today, _for people of a certain background), something that normal people like your or I don't even realize is a thing until we get smacked in the face.

Heh...that actually reminds me a story. When I was in high school, I played trombone, and all of us trombones formed a little trombone choir under the direction of the program's low brass teacher (not because we were rich or anything; if you've been in band, you know most programs have a preferred private lessons teacher who works with one section or another). One Christmas, we were going around raising money for charitable reasons, and we did a private performance at this one really rich family's house. The house itself was a mindfuck; I didn't grow up poor, but you could've dropped my parents' house in the garage with room to spare. That wasn't the craziest thing; no, the craziest thing was that the sweet old lady who brought us kids homemade cookies was not, in fact, someone's grandmother, but was, in reality, a full-time, live-in _nanny. _

I shit you not. I still haven't fully wrapped my mind around it.

Moving on! in the next chapter, Kuvira gets told to pick on somebody her own size. Stay tuned!


	100. THE COMMANDER III

THE COMMANDER

WHEN THE WALL FELL, KUVIRA WAS READY FOR IT. It was a small breach, but a dangerous one. The wall had been designed to be resistant to earthbending attack, but it was not invincible. Eventually, it would break, and when it did, a flood of men and boys in green and brown came flooding through the mangled remains. They came forward, bellowing their war cries, horns and trumpets blowing, fearless, hungry for revenge.

They charged, right into Kuvira and her reserves.

She tore them to pieces. They tried hard, earthbenders attacking her a half-dozen at a time, but they didn't stand a chance. She crushed them into paste, broke their bodies and their bones, leaving a trail of blood and death in her wake. Soon, they broke, fled back the way that they had come. She showed them no mercy, the earth a finely honed weapon in her hand, leaving few survivors. Then, when she was done, she raised the earth to fill the hole, and the wall stood intact once more.

She threw back her head and laughed. She was drenched in sweat, her armor splattered with blood and gore, her face smeared with dust and dirt and mud, her hair plastered to her face, but she didn't care. It had been a long time since Kuvira had felt this alive.

_It's been a long time since I've felt this triumphant._

She looked up at the sky, at that air bison, still making its rounds.

_Do you see, Avatar? Your puppets can't keep this up forever. Eventually, they will have to bow their heads and admit defeat._

_ They must, because I never will._

That was when she heard the screams. She turned, confused, anger welling up from within like a searing flame, flooding through her veins, her face burning white hot with rage. From deep within the Inner City, men were fleeing, terrified, stumbling over each other in their haste to get away. She stormed up to the nearest man, grabbed him by the throat, lifted him up off the ground.

_"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" _she snarled. "_WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!"_

She had to give him credit; despite her tight grip on his throat, he managed to choke out an answer, his arm gesturing wildly back the way he had come.

_"Something…someone…came out of nowhere…tearing us apart…can't even get close…_"

She brought him down close, until the front edge of her helm was pressed deep into the skin of his forehead. _"And what could possibly terrify you more than me?" _she snarled, voice low and thick with fury.

_"You…you don't understand…gods…what she can do…like some kind of god…"_

Her rage snapped, like a brittle twig within her soul, though not as brittle as the man's neck as she cracked it and tossed the now limp body aside. She rounded on the fleeing men, who had stopped running, their faces pale, their bodies trembling worse than the earth itself.

"Just what the hell are you staring at?" she yelled, pointing towards this strange new threat. "Get in there and, whatever it is, _kill it!"_

They didn't answer, but, in the end, they moved, though not in the direction that she wanted them to. A voice sliced through the din of battle, two words, in a girl's voice.

_"Hey, bitch! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"_

The men fled, but she didn't bother to notice. Standing down the lane, facing her, was one of the most petite little girls that Kuvira had ever seen. It was so unexpected, that Kuvira almost doubled over with laughter.

And then the girl smacked a fist into the palm of her hand, and _smirked._

"What, moose-lion got your tongue? I'm waiting."

Kuvira pulled off her helmet, sent it bouncing out of sight. "And just who would you be?"

The answer was quick, forceful, not an ounce of fear in it.

"I'm Toph Bei Fong, you heinous little harpy, and I'm here to put you in your place."

This time, Kuvira really did have to laugh. "I'd like to see you try, _little girl._"

To her ever-lasting shock and awe, the little girl, who couldn't have been more than eighteen-or-so, produced a sound that could only have been called a _scoff._

"Careful what you wish for." Then the girl fell into a bending stance, a fist balled at her waist, the other arm out-stretched. Kuvira watched, fascinated, as the girl flattened her hand, turned it on its back, and made a _come hither _sort of gesture. "In the words of my good buddy Snoozles, _come at me, bro._"

For a moment, Kuvira considered just ignoring the little thing. But then she thought of all the trouble that this _thing _had already caused, and realized that, since her men were too scared to face it, well, she would have to do the job. Thus, she fell into a bending stance, and nodded.

"Very well, little one."

The girl giggled. "Oh, you are _so _going to pay for that."

To Kuvira's surprise, the girl called _Toph Bei Fong _was as good as her word.

* * *

If you didn't cheer a little bit at that, I don't know what to do with you. I know my wife has been looking forward to this moment ever since she made Kuvira's acquaintance a few chapters back.

Also, don't try and tell me it's not hilariously satisfying to imagine Toph saying, _Come at me, bro. _

Moving on! In the next chapter, Jiro's really lost it this time. Stay tuned!


	101. JIRO VIII

JIRO

"WELL, MY LORD, YOU CAN'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU."

Jiro snapped. He rounded on Kojima, who was standing there, just _fucking standing there, the miserable little bastard, _screamed something that was not entirely human, and struck the man's head from his shoulders. _There! Die, you scum! Die, die, __**DIE!**_

But it wasn't Kojima. Jiro blinked, watched the head of some soldier go rolling across the singed and burning grass. The body twitched, then fell, and Jiro didn't know what to do.

He turned, eyes wild, breath ragged. He didn't understand, didn't know what was going on. _It was all perfect, so perfect, I had it, I fucking __**HAD IT! **_But he hadn't, had he? The battlefield was a hell of smoke and steam, of screaming men and komodo-rhinos pounding across the earth. He ran his hand through his hair, unsure of where his helmet had gone, or how his topknot had come undone. _What's going on? __**WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!**_

Nothing made sense. That little bitch of a waterbender and his little whore of a cousin had torn right through his lines, them and the traitorous curs that had followed them. He had charged them, thrown all of his reserves into the battle, but even that hadn't stopped them. He killed everyone who stood in his way, slashed and burned and slaughtered them. He was pretty sure they were all the enemy, but he couldn't be certain. It was all just so…so…

_So hazy…_

There was a buzzing, a ringing in his ears. It built and built, until it felt like it was going to tear him apart. Everything burned, everything hurt. He didn't understand. _I don't understand…_

"Well," Kojima said, shaking his head, his eternal cigarette dangling from his lips, "I should think that that would be fairly obvious. You're losing, my lord, and losing quite badly."

Jiro snarled, baring his teeth. "You don't know a gods-damn fucking _thing, _you son-of-a-bitch. I just have…I just have to…"

_I have to find Azula, find that waterbender, find Zuko, kill them all, kill them all mount their heads on pikes, I can win this, I just have to kill them, kill everybody, I can do this I'm the dragon I can do this it is my karma I can do this I'm not beaten yet I can't be beaten that's not my destiny my destiny is the world it is my karma it is my nature I can do this I swear I will do this I cannot fail I will not fail I-_

"Just have to, _what, _exactly, my lord?" It was Kojima again, and his voice was threaded with laughter. Jiro howled in pain and loathing and burned the man alive. Kojima's smiling face winked at him, then melted into yet another random soldier, falling to his knees, screaming, he was screaming, screaming on and on and on…

_Like this ringing in my ears, oh gods, it hurts, it hurts so much…_

He shook his head. _No, nothing hurts. I am the dragon, I cannot be beaten, dragons cannot lose, I cannot lose, __**I will not be beaten, IT IS NOT MY DESTINY!**_

_"You."_

Jiro whirled around, eyes wide, drops of blood flying from the edge of his _katana. _What he saw, striding through the smoke, he did not understand. It was like some sort of god, eye ablaze, a god with half-a-face, coming for him. It was like watching his own doom, his own death. For a moment, he almost gave in. Something like fear seized his heart, and he almost fell to his knees, threw down his sword, threw up his hands and begged for the _shinagami _to make it quick, _oh gods, just make it quick, please…_

Then the _thing _threw off its helmet, and unbuckled its sword-belt. The thing's _katana _fell with a clatter to the ground, and fire sprang to life in its hands.

Jiro blinked, and the world came closer to being in focus than it had been in he didn't know how long, couldn't remember, _didn't want to remember._

_ "Zuko…?"_

Zuko nodded. His face was like that of a demon, and his one eye burned with all the fires of the deepest pits of the underworld.

"In the flesh, you piece of shit," Zuko snarled. "Are you going to die like a man, or like a dog?"

Jiro didn't know how to respond. It was like all of his fears, the fears he had never admitted existed, even to himself, had come true. All his life, he had seen himself as a prince, as a king, _as a Fire Lord, __**as a god on earth, descended from Agni Himself. **_And yet…

_And yet…_

Kojima chuckled. "You know, for someone who doesn't want to be a prince, that boy sure looks like one right now."

That did it. Jiro's rage came back into his heart, melted the icy fingers of fear that enveloped it. He snarled, cast aside his _katana. _Fire burst from his hands, and he hurled himself at his half-cousin, screaming something that even he didn't understand.

* * *

Shit be real, yo. This should be interesting.

Why didn't Zuko wait for Katara and Azula, which was obviously the plan? Well, for one thing, he's Zuko, and, come on, him and Sokka get along for a reason. Mostly, however, Jiro was making a break for it, whether Jiro realized that or not. Zuko saw him, and knew he had to take the shot, or lose it.

No doubt he's hoping his wife and his sister will catch up to help finish the job in time.

Well, that's all for today. As of tomorrow, we will resume morning posting. We're getting into crunch time here, and I'm pretty stoked.

Also, a lovely happy twentieth birfday to my wonderful sister-in-law! If you're reading this (girl likes her fanfiction), I repeat my advice to get out there and do something fun today, finals or no finals! Hell, the wife and I will help you do it!

Wow...that was some epic accidental phrasing there...damn you, wife, for encouraging my _Archer _addiction! *isn't in the least bit annoyed*

Moving on! In the next chapter, the homesick boy makes a choice. Stay tuned!


	102. THE HOMESICK BOY III

THE HOMESICK BOY

EVEN FROM SEVERAL MILES AWAY, THE BATTLEFIELD LOOKED LIKE THE WORST KIND OF HELL. All through the morning, they had watched, all the soldiers of fire, lining up on scattered hilltops and winding ridges, and watched as their Fire Lord did his best to batter his way to them. It was terrifying to watch, as on earth and in the air, three elements did their best to tear each other apart. The wounded thronged the road, stumbling, screaming, crying, begging for mothers who would never see them again, while reinforcements and reserves rushed forward, running as fast as they could, hurling themselves into the fray.

And through it all, Koizumi stood on his hilltop, and watched.

He found it all very strange, very surreal. He was dressed in full battle-rattle, his _yari _in his hand, his helmet upon his head, his _wakizashi _on his hip. They were all dressed like that, though no one seemed sure why. It was all so unclear to Koizumi now, so hazy, so indistinct…

_And it had seemed so clear before. _He looked down at his hand, watched it open and close, becoming a fist, becoming a hand, back to a fist. _We made our decision. We wouldn't stand in the way of those who wanted to fight, but our only decision was to not fight, and that is how we will stand…_

_ How we will stand…_

His cousin had run off in the night. Koizumi couldn't say he was surprised. Quite a few had run off to take their place in the lines, taking their arms and armor with them. They were out there now, fighting and dying…

_Fighting and dying…_

_ For what?_

Koizumi wasn't entirely sure he knew. _Then again, did I ever? Before, we fought and died because our names were called, our number came up. Now, we…_

_ We…_

_ We stand here…_

_ Stand…_

_ And watch…_

When the rider appeared before them, Koizumi found nothing strange about it. The rider was Fire Nation. He wore no helmet, and his armor was singed and scored and splattered with blood. His voice was hoarse, cracked, and it looked like it hurt for him to speak.

But speak he did.

"_The fuck are you all standing there?! Our allies are breaking, they can't hold on much longer!_" He waved, pointing madly, his ostrich-horse jerking at the reins, almost jumping, it was so wild and frightened. "You don't want to fight the Fire Lord? _Fine! Then at least come fight for us! _Because if you think _His Fucking Majesty _will care that you just stood here and watched, _you've got another thing coming!" _He drew his _katana, _waved it wildly about in the air. _"Come on! Let's fight!"_

Who took the first step forward, Koizumi would never know. Later, his friends would tell him that it was, in fact, he himself who did it, but he couldn't be sure, and he wasn't sure he believed them.

All he remembered, before the gathered soldiers began charging forward, was how easy it had been.

* * *

At the end of the day, we all have choices, for better or for worse, or, more often, for worse or for more worse. That's just the nature of life, but the important thing, as human beings, is that we never give up our right to have a choice, nor surrender that right once we have it. It this massive project has been about anything, it's been about that.

For those playing the home game, the _wakizashi _is, for lack of a better phrase, a _katana _that's shorter and a bit smaller. Usually, it was paired with the _katana, _as wearing two swords was what identified _samurai _as, well, _samurai. _In this universe, it's the sword that non-officers wear, since once contact has been made and the spears break, it's time for swordplay.

Also, last night, the wife and I watched "T.A.H.I.T.I.," and, well..._what the fuck was that...that...that **THING**?! _That is all.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Zuko fights. Stay tuned!


	103. ZUKO VI

ZUKO

_I AM THE FIRE, AND THE FIRE IS ME._

Never before had Zuko fully understood the meaning of those words. He knew them by heart, had been reciting them since he had begun his learning, since he was five-years-old. Every day, every morning, he had said the words, but like so many words he had learned, so many things he had said, in the days of his childhood, days that were always tinged with darkness, they had meant little and less to him.

But now, he _knew._

_ I am the fire…_

_ And the fire is ME._

All around him, the battle raged, but he ignored it. Men fought and screamed and died, cried and fell to their knees and ran and begged for mercy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that his side was not just winning, but had _won._

Not that he cared. His wife and his sister would have things well in hand, them and the men who served alongside them, would be catching up to him any minute now. He had only one thought, one goal. One thing possessed his mind, one thing took him by the soul and pulled him ever forward.

He was going to kill his half-cousin, as plain and simple as that.

_I am the fire, and the fire is me. _Jiro hurled a wall of flame at him, a wall of flame that Zuko parted like the sea, firing his own power and soul right up the middle. _The fire does not fear me, so I must not fear the fire. _Jiro rolled, ducked, firing great spheres of flame as he dodged, flames that Zuko effortlessly deflected, turned into wisps of nothingness, shots that he returned. _The fire does not respect me, but I must respect the fire, for I cannot destroy the fire, but the fire can destroy me. _He fired, again and again and _again. _Jiro's eyes were wide, wild with fear and something Zuko could only identify as madness. Zuko felt a flutter of pity, deep in his heart, but he ignored it. He grasped it about the neck and throttled it in its cradle. He pressed on, through the smoke and the dirt and the dust.

_Do you see now, Jiro? Do you see the fire? Do you see __**me?!**_

Jiro faltered, barely keeping his balance as he fell back before Zuko's onslaught. Zuko fired, again and again. Jiro was screaming, shouting, cursing, Zuko didn't understand, and didn't care to. Zuko pressed on, ever closer, ever stronger, ever hotter.

He let Jiro scream, though. _Let him. _Zuko said not a word, just slowly, carefully, took his half-cousin apart.

Jiro stumbled, began to fall. Zuko struck, three half-rings of fire, launched from his feet as he leaped onto his hand and cycled his legs through the air. Somehow, someway, Jiro managed to dodge two, but the third knocked him off his feet and sent him flying, falling towards the ground.

_I have him._

Zuko pulled everything to him. His body felt hot as the sun, the blood in his veins scalding in its fury. _This is for the Bei Fongs. _The power built. There was a ringing in his ears. _This is for Mai. _Flames crawled up his arms. He pressed his fists together, slowly pulled them apart. The fire floating between them grew and grew. _This is for Ty Lee._

Jiro had almost hit the ground. Everything had slowed down, almost stopped. The world stood still, not even turning anymore.

This was no Agni Kai. There would be no pause, no offer of mercy, no agreed-upon point at which honor had been satisfied and everyone could go home.

This…

_This is for all of us._

Zuko never saw the final shot. Seemingly from out of nowhere, flames erupted from Jiro's fist, shot along the ground, right as Zuko made his move. Pain, pain like nothing Zuko had ever experienced, not since that horrid day, so long ago, was it five years, it couldn't have been…

_Pain…crawling up my leg…_

He didn't see anything after that. The world spun and turned. He lost of track of where he was and what he was doing. His leg went out from under him, and he fell. He screamed. Where his shot had gone, he didn't know. He barely even remembered what he had been doing. Somehow, by the time he had hit the ground, he had bent out the flames that had been racing up his leg, he didn't know how, didn't remember, a soldier's instinct, pure and simple. He was biting down on his tongue. Blood flooded his mouth. His leg was burned and he couldn't see straight and stars were exploding in his eye and-

Coolness enveloped him, enveloped where he had been burned. He opened his eye, his vision clouded with tears of pain, and saw his wife, leaning over him, her hands moving swiftly over his lower right leg, the water that surrounded it cold and cool and tingling, so pleasant, _so warm…_

He coughed, spit out the blood from where he'd bitten his tongue. His shoulder ached from where he had hit the ground; something grated, and he knew, just _knew, _that he had dislocated it. He ground his teeth in frustration, focusing on the shoulder, on his wife's face, on her hands, slowly, carefully, working their magic.

He cracked a smile, the best he could manage. _"Fancy seeing you here." _Where the words came from, he hadn't a clue; no doubt he was channeling Sokka.

If his wife was amused, she didn't show it. She shouted something at someone, just out sight, he didn't know what, then looked to him, shot him one of her _looks, _and said, "You're really gods-damn lucky I love you so fucking much." She leaned over, pecked him on the lips, and went back to work. "Now, the battle's won, so go ahead and pass out, it'll be good for you."

He frowned, the memory of his fight floating up in tattered bits and pieces. "_But…"_

"Uh uh. Do what wifey tells you."

He sighed. "_Okay_." With that, he did as he was told.

He was a smart kid like that.

* * *

What, you thought Jiro was going to go down easy? _Please. _This ain't that kind of story.

Remember how I said that I was going to try and do different things in this fic? Well, this is part of it. _A Different Path _and, to an extent, _Wild, Wild Love, _along with the first part of this trilogy, were very Zuko/Katara-centric, and especially Zuko-centric. Time to get everyone else in on the endgame, don't you think?

Moving on! In the next chapter, the line holds. Stay tuned!


	104. BOLIN V

BOLIN

THE LAST THING HE SAW, AS THE ONE WHO GOT HIM RAISED HIS SWORD FOR THE FINAL BLOW, WAS MING'S FACE. It was, Bolin felt, appropriate. He had fought all he could, fought until he couldn't fight anymore, than fought some more. Again and again, the Fire Lord's army had come, crashing into the line. Fire and steel and earth and blood, all mixed in together. He couldn't remember any of it, couldn't piece it together. He had just fought and fought, and then someone he couldn't see, hadn't seen, _you never see the one that gets you, _had knocked him down, down into the charred and burning grass, the dirt blackened and smoking, and then he was looking up, blinking, his head was ringing, the boy in black-and-red standing over him, raising the sword for the killing stroke, and he had known it was over.

_No more reserves. No more men to throw into the fray. Half-trained rebels and barely-trained runaways took the best the Fire Lord had, and broke, as they inevitably would._

He smirked and looked away. Everything was slow, disjointed; nothing made sense. _Why hasn't he struck yet? What's he waiting for? Has it been a second, or an hour? _Bolin couldn't tell anymore.

He supposed it didn't matter. He just looked away, found Ming's face, the guy's lifeless eyes staring back at him. Ming was covered in blood, half his body burned, still smoking. _You were a good guy, Ming, _Bolin finally decided to admit. _An annoying little asshat, but a good guy in the end. _Bolin tried to think of how Ming had died, and couldn't come up with a single thing.

He looked back to the man who was about to kill him. His last thought was, _At least I won't have to hear my brother say that he told me so…_

And that's when he heard it, the most beautiful sound that had ever entered his ears.

_**"BANZAI!"**_

The man who was about to kill him was gone. Dead or fled, Bolin didn't know. His world was filled with fire and red, scarlet-and-black fighting and hacking at scarlet-and-black, young men from across the world slashing each other, burning each other. Fire danced with fire, flames danced with flames, and over and over again, the chant, the call…

_"No more!"_

_ "NO MORE!"_

_**"NO MORE!"**_

Someone was helping him up, two boys, one in red, the other in green. They were jabbering back-and-forth in two different languages, both of which Bolin knew, neither of which he could understand just then. They pulled him up until he was sitting. He blinked, looked around, watched as the line reformed, red-and-green-and-brown-and-black all mixed up together, he hadn't the faintest clue what had happened, all he knew was that it was beautiful.

_We held._

He smiled.

_We won._

He turned to the guy on his right arm, the one in red. "Hey," he said, in Hangugeo, "just so you know, I'm totally about to pass out on you."

The guy made a weird little face that came very close to making Bolin burst into hysterical laughter. "Huh?"

Bolin chuckled. "Exactly." And then, the world went black, and he was as good as his word.

* * *

The line held, ladies and gentlemen, and thus the stage is set for the final act.

For those playing the home game, no, Bolin's not badly hurt, not at all, really. He's just really fucking tired, and probably a bit banged-up and disoriented.

Oh, and Girl with the Dragon Heart (and why does everyone have better S/Ns than I do?), I _love _the word _scoff, _because it's just...well...I think the word _scoff _in the dictionary should have a picture of _Smirking Toph _next to it. I'm also glad you enjoyed yesterday's updates, because my wife was furious; my cliffhangers tend to get on her nerves, and she was salivating for the chance to watch Toph kick the shit out of Kuvira. Speaking of which...

Moving on! In the next chapter, Toph does just that! Stay tuned!


	105. TOPH V

TOPH

_ALRIGHT, _TOPH ADMITTED TO HERSELF, _THIS BITCH IS LEGIT._

Whoever this Kuvira lady was, she knew her stuff. She kept pace with Toph, meeting every attack, trading blow for blow, move for move. They danced around each other, tearing the heart from the Inner City, ripping the earth to shreds as they lashed out at each other. How long it had been going on, Toph really wasn't sure, and she really didn't care.

All she knew was that she was going to win.

_I just don't know how yet…_

She paused, fell into a defensive form. Across from her, she sensed her opponent doing the same. They stared at each other, across the ruin that they had made of the earth. _Sorry, old friend, but this lady is determined to be a real hard-ass about this. _She frowned, desperately trying to catch her breath. She was bathed in sweat from head-to-toe, her shoulders and chest heaving. Every square inch of her was sore, and she didn't even want to know how her hair looked right then. _Probably a complete mess. I really should hack it off one of these days…_

_ Hack it off…_

_ One of these days…_

In that moment, Toph had it. Without sparing a single second's worth of extra thought on the matter, she struck, only, _she didn't. _As her enemy moved to meet her, Toph began fighting wildly, erratically. She attacked with half-assed forms, bent ever-decreasing amounts of earth. She let the earth fight her, didn't touch every bone and fiber and sinew of the earth, didn't reach fully into it, didn't pull the earth fully into her body, into her soul. She began to gasp for breath, to wheeze, to stumble and stagger. Her head began to loll about on her neck, and she began to take hits. Not too many, but enough. Just enough to…

_Just enough to…_

A boulder hit her, a boulder that she saw coming from a mile away, saw coming before her opponent had even begun to form it. She let it come, twisting in the air as it approached, grasping the heart and soul of the rock, flinging as much of its power, its energy, away from her as she could.

She still ended up on her ass, though.

_Ow._

She groaned, throwing her whole heart and soul into it. She rolled onto her side, curled up in a ball, even let a few tears slide down her cheeks. Someone was coming towards her, slow, wary, heavy boots crunching through the dirt.

The last thought Toph had was to make note of how hot it seemed. Then, someone had her by the throat, and was lifting her up into the air. She put on a real good show, too, kicking her feet pathetically back-and-forth, making a soft, whining sound.

Bitchy McBitcherson scoffed. Toph almost dropped the act then. _That's my move, Crazy Cakes. _The woman gave Toph a shake, chuckling deep in the back of her throat, sounding calm, peaceful, in control.

_Though I see all and hear all, you old hag. I know how close you were getting to folding._

"Not so tough now, are we, brat?" the lady snarled. Toph was given another shake, bouncing about through the air. "Any last words? Any final names to call me? It's not every day that I get called a _bitch _to my face. Come on, then, young one. Let's hear what you have to say. You're good, I'll give you that. Make me laugh, right here, right now, I might even find a place for you in the Dai Li; we could use fighters like you." Another shake. "Well? I'm waiting?"

Toph cracked her best smile. "You really shouldn't have worn steel armor today."

Toph would've given, quite literally, anything in the entire world, to see the look on the woman's face as she said, "Come again?"

Toph had only one thing to say. "I said, _Go fuck yourself._" Then, she reached out, plunged her fingers into the woman's steel chest plate. She moved fast, struck hard, struck true. She reached into the metal, took hold of it, bound it to her, took all of it deep inside herself, and crushed it.

Naturally, the woman dropped her. It hurt, Toph would have to admit, but it was totally worth it. The last thing the old bag ever said was, gasping, the sound of shattered bones sliding around inside the armor that Toph had just crushed to half its previous size plainly audible in Toph's ears, _"What…what did you do…you…horrid little…thing…"_

Toph knew she shouldn't have said anything, that she should've just finished it, but she couldn't resist. "What did I do? _I beat you._" And with that, she called forth the earth and crushed the woman she'd been told was called Kuvira into oblivion, pounded her with the earth until there was no more heartbeat left to hear.

She was still trying to catch her breath when a hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder. Smiling from ear-to-ear, she said, "That you, Baldie?"

From above her, Lobsang chuckled. "It is, indeed, my dear. As soon as I saw you engage Commander Cheng here, I took our decoy back home and rushed back here as fast as I could."

Toph scoffed. "What, afraid I'd need some help?"

"Perish the thought, young lady. I never doubted you for a moment."

"Good, because if you had, I'd kick your ass." She paused, stretched out her consciousness, tried to get a feel for what was happening around her. "So, we're totally winning, right?"

"I believe we are, my dear," Lobsang said, and somehow, she just knew that he was smiling. "The Dai Li have completely crumbled, and our allies are coming through the walls."

She nodded, smacking a fist into a palm. "Fuck yeah. Which way's the Palace?"

A hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Well, my lady, if you would be so kind as to follow me…"

They ran in what Toph presumed was the right direction, and she took great pride in the fact that no one dared to bar their path.

* * *

What, you thought I was going to set up metalbending, and then not use it? _You're crazy._

Also, _motherfucking Toph, _am I right? One of my wife's favorite scenes in LOK is the one from Book Four, when Toph doesn't fight Kuvira, but a simple _Toph Glare _is enough to make the mean lady blink. That says everything you need to know, really.

Moving on! In the next chapter, if you thought yesterday was a cliffhanger, _you ain't seen shit yet. _Stay tuned!


	106. SUKI VI

SUKI

THEY FOUND LONG FENG EXACTLY WHERE THE SERVANTS HAD SAID THEY WOULD. Indeed, to Suki's happy surprise, _everything_ that the servants had said was true. The Palace was empty because most of the guards had been called out to the walls, but that didn't mean that the man they only called _The Chancellor, _in whispered voices as if he was some kind of god, was alone. _There will be at least a half-dozen men there, _the senior servant had stammered, sweating like a fat man in summer, constantly mopping his brow as Asami delicately dragged the facts out of him. _Maybe more, maybe less, I don't know, I can't be sure. But he won't be alone; he rarely is, and that harpy won't let him be alone._

It had been an incredible, awe-inspiring moment, watching Asami play the blushing lady, wrapping the man around her finger. Before, Suki had liked Asami, respected her drive to be a part of things, enjoyed her company as a friend, but until that moment, she hadn't been impressed by the girl. _Now, _she thought, as they cowered behind a corner, communicating with hand gestures and facial expressions, _that's all changed. Sokka and I have never had servants, never would've thought to seek them out, and there's no way in all the hells that men believe in that we would've been able to cajole the answers we needed that quickly. _

Asami, though, had been the only one who wasn't impressed. When Sokka tried to high-five her, she had frowned, looked sad and a little forlorn. _Figures that the first real contribution I make is because I grew up loaded. _Suki hadn't had any of that. _Hey, we got what we needed, and thank the gods you were here to get it._

_ And now we're here. _Sokka had slid his boomerang from the sheathe strapped across his back. He crouched down, muscles tightening under his skin like coiled springs about to release. Suki was right behind him, her sword shimmering as scattered candles trembled with the ebb and flow of the battle outside. She looked to her side, saw Asami mirroring her own pose, sword in her hand, her lips mouthing a wordless prayer. Suki prayed herself, with all her heart. _The more gods on our side, the better, and a few spare ancestors won't hurt, either._

She waved her hand through the air, caught Asami's eye. Asami blinked, turned her head, smiled, a smile that Suki returned. _You ready, girl? _she asked with her eyes. Asami nodded and threw her a thumbs-up. _You bet._

She turned back to Sokka, tapped him twice on the shoulder.

He didn't need to be told twice.

They went. There were five guards that they could see, guarding the only door into the throne room. One died, gurgling on his own blood, fingers clutching at the boomerang that had blossomed, as if out of thin air, in his throat. He hadn't even finished sliding to the floor before Sokka plunged his sword into the belly of another.

Suki didn't pay attention to anything after that, didn't think, didn't blink, didn't hesitate. She killed a man, she knew, cleaved his head clean from his shoulders. For a brief, terrifying moment, he had the same face as that first boy, the one at the temple, her first kill. Then she blinked again, and another man was coming for her, and she pivoted to meet him before Asami's blade flashed and his leg crumpled beneath him. He fell, right onto the point of Suki's sword, then she pushed him off with her foot and moved on.

They were through. They ran as fast as they could into the throne room. It was huge, cavernous, the biggest room Suki had ever seen. For a brief, bewildering moment, an innate sense of superstitious awe and fear seized her by the throat. _This is the Emperor's room. How __**dare **__you draw blood in this sacred place!_

But then she remembered that there were no Emperors any more, and she gritted her teeth and charged.

Long Feng moved. He moved, and the floor came up to meet them. Nothing made sense. Sokka yelled out, vanished beneath a pile of jagged marble hurled against a wall. Suki gaped, raised her sword, charged, and then she was flying, tumbling through the air, end-over-end. She hit something hard, like a wall, but she couldn't be sure.

She didn't even have time to think.

Darkness took her.

She didn't remember anything after that.

* * *

It's always easy to forget Long Feng is an earthbender, and a pretty good one, too. Hell, it's almost like Long Feng encourages people to forget about it...

Because he's a devious bastard like that.

Well, that's it for today! Why? Because, one, that's five chapters, and don't fix what ain't broken, and two, because, let's face it, I'm mean, and apparently I enjoy having my wife get irritated at me.

For those playing the home game, because eventually, someone will be reading this straight through, and I want to irritate them as much as possible, tomorrow I'm going to go get to see _Age of Ultron! _I'm super stoked! _**NO SPOILERS!**_

Moving on! In the next chapter, Iroh shows that, unlike most members of his family, he knows when he's been beaten. Stay tuned!


	107. THE FIRE LORD V

THE FIRE LORD

IT WAS OVER; THERE WAS NOTHING MORE HE COULD DO. There were no more orders to give, no more last-minute miracles to pull out of his ample rear. Up above, his airships and his balloons reeled, either knocked from the sky, their shattered corpses littering the field, or hurtling back, smoking and charred, in full retreat. Up on the ridge, his army staggered backwards, their energy spent, no more fight left in them. They were falling back in good order, he could see that, was proud of that. They had done everything he could've expected, and more. They had even almost won.

_But __**almost **__only counts in horseshoes and firebombs, doesn't it? _He frowned at the words. They had been said in his father's voice, a voice he had long since banished from his mind.

He looked up at the sky. _Is that you, Father? Come to watch your son fail? You always said I would. _He sighed, turned his eyes back to the battlefield. _Always said I was too weak, too soft._

_ Maybe you were right._

_ Maybe…_

"Your Majesty…?"

He turned to regard the boy who had come to find him. _Boy? He looks to be at least twenty-years-old. Don't be such an old man. _He dipped his head to the lad. "Yes, Sergeant?"

The sergeant was leaning on the neck of his komodo-rhino, an animal that looked at least as exhausted as he was. "Your Majesty, General Ohira begs me to tell you that he has made contact with enemy cavalry. Northern Water Tribe by the look of them."

He nodded. "I see. In force?"

The sergeant shook his head. The poor boy looked done for; Iroh could only guess what his day had been like. "Not yet, Your Majesty, but General Ohira doubts that the infantry are far behind."

Iroh nodded. He turned away, closed his eyes, let his mind go to work. _If I try to launch another attack, I won't have the troops needed to meet the threat to my flank. That wily old dog Arnook will smash through my left flank and fall on my rear, and it'll all be over._

He sighed. _Nothing else to do._

"Sergeant," he said, opening his eyes and bowing his head to the boy, "take a fresh mount and ride back to General Ohira. Inform him that we are going to withdraw to the fall-back position. Tell him to retreat with all possible order, and all possible haste. Understood?"

The sergeant nodded. _Barely. _"At once, Your Majesty." He slumped himself out of the saddle, hurled himself onto the back of the fresh mount one of the grooms had already brought up, and was off.

Iroh turned away, and closed his eyes. _Is that you I feel, Lady Ursa? Are you watching me? Or are you not even bothering to keep tabs on me? I wouldn't, if I were you; it's your children who will win the day._

_ Your children…_

"Lieutenant," he said, without looking up or opening his eyes, not particularly caring which of the several junior officers milling around responded to his call, "sound the retreat, and send word to the Avatar. Tell her that I accept her challenge, and will meet her at noon three days hence."

With that, he turned on his heels, and walked away.

* * *

Well, you can't fault Iroh for trying, now, can you? I mean, you obviously _can, _but it's not in his nature to just give up.

It is in his nature, though, to know when he's beaten, and to face the consequences with a cup of tea in his hand and his head held high. It's sad, in many ways; he would've made an incredible peacetime Fire Lord. Alas, it's not peacetime, and the days of the Fire Lords are at an end.

So, good morning! How is everybody doing today? I hope you're all well!

Moving on! In the next chapter, Long Feng tries to salvage his situation. Stay tuned!


	108. THE CHANCELLOR IV

THE CHANCELLOR

LONG FENG WAS ANNOYED. If he had known that that motley little crew would tear through his guards so quickly, he would've sent _all _of them out into the fighting, rather than holding back these five. Even that much had only been because he knew Kuvira would insist. Personally, he didn't think it would have mattered. If any but the Avatar came into this room, he could take care of himself, and if the Avatar had burst through the ceiling, a thousand guards wouldn't have been able to save him.

_Ah, well. Such is life._

He glanced around the room, taking in the damage. He had ripped the marble floor to shreds, and at least one pillar had been completely demolished. Against the wall to his left, that tall dark-skinned barbarian with the bizarre haircut (_and a painted face, gods forbid, like something out of a fairy tell_) was completely vanished from view. He had struck hard and fast, with all of his might, and he was gratified to not be hearing a peep from that corner. He frowned as he looked to his right. He had moved too quickly, his form had been sloppy as he pivoted and changed targets. The result was easy to see: The young woman who was blatantly a Kyoshi Warrior (_and what're you doing, so far from home, young lady?_) was still alive, groaning and injured, but alive. He shook his head and clucked his tongue against his teeth. _So it goes. Could be useful as a hostage, though; keep an eye on her._

He finally turned his gaze to the center of the room. _Which leaves only you._

He bowed to the girl. She was quite young, maybe twenty, maybe twenty-one, of average height, with pale skin and dark brown eyes and jet-black hair done up in a tight warrior's bun. He examined her closely, saw the way she trembled, the way her sword hung limply from her fingers.

Were he the villain the people painted him as, he would've smiled and said something witty. Sadly, he was not, and so went to business.

He bowed, low and perfectly polite. "Good day to you, my lady." He rose. "I am Long Feng, His Majesty the Fire Lord's High Chancellor of Ba Sing Se. And you would be…?"

She gulped. He had spoken in his perfect, well-polished Nihongo, and it was obvious she understood, though he couldn't help but wonder if, in her terror, she was not fully comprehending. _Maybe if I try smaller words…_

"Asami," she squeaked, her voice high and brittle. "Sato Asami." And, to his amusement, she returned his bow, with perfect correctness.

He nodded. "I see you know your courtesies. Hmm…Sato…where have I heard that name…" He remembered, and snapped his fingers. "Ah! Your father is Sato Hiroshi, is he not?"

She nodded, bowed her head. "He is, my lord."

"Well, then…you'll be pleased to know that you just saved your own life. You just revealed yourself as quite the valuable commodity."

She frowned, obviously lost. "My lord…?"

He rolled his eyes. _Idiots. Why must I be surrounded by idiots? "_If you and your friends got here, I can only conclude that the battle is not going well for me. I imagine that your father will pay handsomely to have you back, and a man as wealthy as Sato Hiroshi would be a good friend to have, I think." He began walking forward, careful to step around the fissures he had torn in the steps leading down from the Jade Throne. "Sadly," and he sighed, because he meant it, he truly did, shedding blood was always such a waste of good material, "I'm afraid we can't do anything for your friends. They are of no use to me, so we're going to have to leave them here."

Her mouth fell open, and her skin went even paler than before. "But…but…"

He batted the words aside. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure your allies will be here soon, and they'll do what needs to be done. For now, I think," he stopped, right before her, looking down his nose, slightly annoyed that he wasn't the tallest and most imposing of men, "you're going to come with me, and show me how you got in. And, really, I hate to say this, but, if you fight me, please look upon your friends. I may not look like much, but…well…" He inclined his head, first to the left, and then to the right. "I trust you get the picture."

She stared at him, for so long that, for a moment, he feared that she had lost her sanity. _Why are you even here? I mean, I get you, you ran away from home, looking for adventure, probably tagging along with your royal born friend, that oh-so-very-dangerous princess, thank the gods she wasn't here, but why did they bring you? Surely they knew you weren't cut out for this…_

And then, to his extreme annoyance, her bottom lip began to tremble. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she fell to her knees, sword clattering to the ground, back heaving as she sobbed.

"Now, now, don't be like this," he said. "I can just kill you, right here, but you'll be much more useful to me as a bargaining chip." His words had no effect; she was obviously scared out of her wits. Rolling his eyes, he crouched down, grabbed her by the shoulders, prepared to pull her up. "Don't make me smack you senseless and carry you; you wouldn't want that." He tugged at her, to no effect. "Are you even listening to me, girl?"

He was prepared for many things, but not what happened. Her head snapped up, and her eyes were completely dry, and when she spoke, it was in a vicious snarl that made his blood run cold.

"Oh, I hear you, you son-of-a-bitch."

Where she got the knife, he didn't know, and supposed it didn't matter. He blinked, and then the girl had slammed it through the bottom of his jaw. He felt it, all of it, as it tore through his skin, his tongue, exploded up through his skull and into his brain. He blinked once more. Searing hot blood filled his mouth. He gasped, choked, knew fear for the first time since he was a little boy.

He tried to say something as his body went rigid, stars exploding in his eyes.

What it was, even he didn't know.

Were he alive, he probably would have said it wasn't important.

* * *

And like that, Asami's story arc is almost at an end, at least as far as the story I'm going to tell is. Asami, the girl who, at the start of Book 2, had barely even touched a knife, much less a sword, just saved the day.

And she did it with the knife that Ty Lee gave her, a while back. See how I bring all of my story elements together? Cool, right? Every once in a while, I manage to surprise even myself.

More often, I outsmart myself, which is easier to do than one thinks, but there you go.

For those playing the home game, the character my lovely wife identifies with the most is Asami. Like, she loves Asami; she spent an hour yesterday laying out, in very intricate detail, everything she thinks about this story's Asami. It was incredibly sexy, which shows why it always pays to be involved with someone smarter than you.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we find out if any didn't make it in that throne room. Stay tuned!


	109. LOBSANG IV

LOBSANG

"_DAMN." _It was a measure of the scene that greeted him, after trembling servants peeking out of their hiding places had directed he and Toph to the throne room, that that was the only word Lobsang could think to say. An entire lifetime of avoiding foul language, and the first thing that popped out of his mouth was _damn._

Had he worn a hat, he would've given the day to Toph. Her response had been to get a feel from the room, let her mouth drop open, and mutter, in Guangzhou, _"Fuck me sideways."_

He nodded. "Indeed. Come on."

For once, she didn't talk wise in response.

The room was a complete shambles. He had known Long Feng was an earthbender, but it appeared that the man had gone to great lengths to downplay his abilities. It looked like some angry god had gone on a drunken rampage, leaving most of the floor in two piles against the walls. He made for the smaller one first, barely keeping up with Toph, getting there just as Asami, tears pouring down her face, freed Suki from the rubble. She picked the girl up, began to carry her away. Lobsang ran to the girls, took Suki gently in his arms, laid her carefully on the floor. She was out cold, but she was breathing, and when he put his fingers to her throat and his ear to her chest, he could tell that her pulse was strong and regular. He performed a quick examination, nodding, trying to look optimistic.

"How is she?" Asami gasped, shaking like a leaf, clutching herself. "Is she alright?"

Lobsang gave her a kind smile. "A few bones broken, a few ribs cracked, but she'll be just fine."

Asami let out a sob, just one, so painful it made Lobsang wince. "Thank the gods," she muttered, then jumped to her feet and began running across the room. He almost stopped her, until Toph shot off, right on Asami's heels.

His heart dropped through his feet and into the underworld.

_Gods._

Everything became a jumble. He stripped off his outer robe, he knew that, remembered carefully, gently, rolling it into a ball and laying Suki's head atop it. Then he was running, stumbling, Asami was attacking the pile, sobbing like a baby. He grabbed her arms, why, he didn't know, maybe it had something to do with the fact that she had already managed to rip out two fingernails digging for Suki, was rapidly turning her fingers into bloody messes. He pulled her off, and she struggled, kicking and screaming and crying.

He vaguely remembered stepping over the Chancellor's body, quickly growing cold on the floor in a puddle of congealing blood, a knife hilt jutting from under his jaw. He also, at some point, became aware of the fact that Asami was covered in blood, though somehow he knew that none of it was hers.

He couldn't ever make out what sequences those thoughts happened in, though. It was all a blur.

Silence. That's when the world came back to him. Silence like he had never experienced, would never have believed. Asami stopped struggling. Tears continued to fall, but she made not a single sound. She just went limp as a doll, her eyes locked on the rocks.

Locked on Toph.

They watched. They watched as Toph gingerly climbed onto the pile of shattered rock and marble, watched as she pressed her flattened hands, fingers outstretched, into the rubble. She was putting her ear to the wreckage, her eyes were closed. She breathed in. She breathed out.

They watched.

She breathed in.

She breathed out.

No one said a single word.

The world stood still.

Lobsang closed his eyes.

He began to pray.

_Please…if anyone is out there…if anyone is out there…please…_

_ Not another one…_

_ Not another…_

_ Please…_

_ No more…_

Toph gasped. It all happened in the blink of an eye. She gasped, gave a wordless scream, leaped off the rocks, began to hurl them aside, heedless of where they flew. Asami came back to life, began to struggle, to shout, to scream, Lobsang held her, backed away from the flying debris, put himself and Asami between the desperate earthbender and Suki. Toph began to cry, to cry and to laugh, and then she disappeared into the wreckage, vanished beneath it, and there was a long, hideous pause, and then the rubble exploded outwards, and a clear path was opened into its heart, and at its heart…

_At its heart…_

_ A cough…_

_ A groan…_

_ A boy muttering in Inuktitut…_

_ "The fuck…? Oh, Gods, Toph, if you're in the afterlife, I fucked up worse than I thought…"_

Suki began to cough, to mutter and to groan. She stirred, and Asami ran to her, picked her up in her arms, began to run after Lobsang, though how he knew this, he would never be sure, he had raced down the path that Toph had opened, heedless of what happened. He ran faster than he'd ever run before, but it seemed to take forever, but also an instant, it was confusing, and he didn't care.

He knelt beside the boy, the boy in blue, though there was a lot of red in that blue now. He had that same lopsided grin on his face, and his breath was coming in ragged, painful-sounding gasps, but he was breathing, and he was smiling. Toph cradled his head in her lap, and she couldn't stop crying, wasn't even trying to hide it.

In a move that Lobsang couldn't even _pretend _to be surprised by, Sokka rolled his eyes towards him, and threw out a wink.

_"You think I'm bad, you should see the other guy…"_

Lobsang looked to the ceiling, _through the ceiling_, muttered a prayer of thanks, and went to work.

* * *

Admit it: I had you guys for a minute there. At the end of the day, though, I just couldn't go through with it.

At the end of the day, I decided to go for a win. A partial win, no doubt, but a win nonetheless. I doubt you guys will mind.

Also, my wife would've punched me in the face this time; she already punched me in the arm over Ty Lee, and I really didn't like my chances this time around.

Moving on! In the next chapter, the Avatar speaks. Stay tuned!


	110. THE AVATAR

THE AVATAR

"WE ARE VERY PROUD OF YOU, AVATAR KORRA."

Avatar Korra nodded. She was in the same place she had been all day, on her balcony, looking over the city, perched in a meditative pose upon a pillow. She breathed slowly, in and out, on and on. She felt calm. She had never felt so calm before. It was inhuman, how calm she felt. This kind of calm wasn't normal for a human being.

_It shouldn't be normal for any being, human or not. _She didn't say that, of course; she barely even thought it. After all, she had an audience.

Three Avatars stood before her, their blue forms swirling and shifting with the blue mists that were her world so often now. It was Avatar Kyoshi who had spoken, and so it was to Avatar Kyoshi that Avatar Korra bowed her head.

"I thank you, Avatar Kyoshi. I would be lying if I said it was not difficult."

Avatar Kyoshi nodded. "I understand, Avatar Korra, do not think that I don't, that any of us don't sympathize with you. We have all been in a similar position at some point."

"But few, I think," Avatar Yangchen said, smiling in way that reminded Avatar Korra of someone, she couldn't be a hundred-percent sure who, _or maybe she was just determined not to, right then, _"have managed to perform with such grace and dignity as you have, Avatar Korra."

Avatar Korra returned the smile. "I doubt that, but I thank you for the compliment, Avatar Yangchen. I am new, and young, and learning, but I am doing my best."

Avatar Roku huffed. "About time, Avatar Korra."

The other two Avatars shot the third Avatar annoyed looks. "Be kind," Avatar Yangchen said, her voice full of subtle reproach. "Avatar Korra has had to travel a difficult road, more difficult than any an Avatar has had to travel in a long time."

Avatar Kyoshi nodded. "I agree. It's not her fault that so many in the world have forgotten what an Avatar is supposed to be, what an Avatar is supposed to do."

Avatar Roku sighed, rolled his eyes, but bowed his head. "You are all, of course, correct. _All things considered, _Avatar Korra, you have come remarkably far, and have performed remarkably well. At this rate, you will be the most remembered and celebrated Avatar in centuries."

_Remembered, perhaps. Celebrated? I'm not so sure._

Again, Avatar Korra didn't say that. She merely bowed her head. "I thank you, Avatar Roku." She took another deep breath, let it out. "Still, all of that is beside the point. I think it is time to come to the business of the day."

The Avatars all nodded. "Indeed," Avatar Kyoshi said. "It is time to speak of the Fire Lord. I am not sure how much discussion is needed."

"When a life is in question, no matter the person the life belongs to," Avatar Yangchen replied, a growl hidden in the depths of her words, "a discussion is always needed."

The other two Avatars bowed their heads. "You are right, of course," Avatar Kyoshi said. "Still…is there any disagreement amongst those present?"

Avatar Roku shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

Avatar Yangchen sighed. "As much as it pains me to say it, Fire Lord Iroh, gods have mercy on his soul, must die for balance to be restored."

Avatar Roku nodded. "Agreed. He must pay for the sins of his forefathers, and for his own." He turned to Avatar Korra. "Though, I pray you do not allow his niece and his nephew to continue down their current path. There _must _be a Tokugawa on the Scarlet Throne, if balance is to be maintained."

Avatar Korra frowned. "I am not sure it would be best for me to force that upon either of them. As we are all aware, the royal life has left a bad taste in both of their mouths."

"Be that as it may," Avatar Kyoshi said, "things must be returned to what they once were. Harmony must be restored. The people of the elements must return to the lands from whence they came, and the pre-war governments must resume their responsibilities. For the Fire Nation, any Tokugawa will do, but Prince Zuko and Princess Azula would be the best options."

Avatar Korra pursed her lips in thought. "First, I think, I must deal with Fire Lord Iroh. Once that is done, I can speak to the Prince and the Princess, as well as address the succession to the Jade Throne."

"Most wise," Avatar Yangchen said. "One problem at a time. A very Air Nomad way of thought."

Avatar Korra smiled. "Is that not the purpose of the Avatar?"

All three Avatars bowed. "Indeed," Avatar Roku said. "You have learned well."

"I had great teachers." _Their names were Katara, Toph, Azula, Lobsang…_

_ Mai taught me grace…Ty Lee taught me courage…Sokka taught me wit…Zuko taught me perseverance…and all of you…_

_ You taught me the most important question to ask…_

_ The one that only an Avatar can ask…_

_ Only an Avatar can answer…_

She saw movement, at the edges of her vision. She strained her eye, tried to move it without moving it, focus without focusing. She saw…

_She saw…_

_ A young Air Nomad boy, smiling, and beside him, a teenage girl of the Water Tribes. She had her long brown hair done up in a sloppy ponytail, a ponytail that was draped over her shoulder, and her fingers played with the tail, moved through it, compulsively, all while she nibbled on her bottom lip…_

Avatar Korra bit down on a smirk. _Careful, young lady. If Katara sees you do that, she'll give you a smack upside the head._

_ The girl seemed to hear. Her eyes went wide, she let go of her lip, she clasped her hands tightly together, put them behind her back. She rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet, and she…_

_ She…_

_ She smiled…_

"One question," Avatar Korra said, "before we adjourn for the night."

The Avatars all bowed. "Whatever you wish to ask, Avatar Korra," Avatar Yangchen said, smiling softly.

Avatar Korra smiled back. "Over nine-thousand years, give or take, Avatars have walked the earth, walked like gods brought to life. And in all that time, what have we actually accomplished? And I'm not talking about _maintaining the balance _or anything like that. What I mean is, _what have we actually __**done?**_"

She let the rest of the question, the most important part, dangle in the air, unasked, except, and she could see this plain as day, _in their eyes. _Their eyes, that were wide, their mouths, that hung open, their skin, which looked sickly, pale, even in the glow of blue.

_If all an Avatar does is maintain balance, hold themselves apart, in impartial judgment, then…well…__**why are we even here?**_

_** Why?**_

No one gave an answer, but then again, she wasn't expecting one. She giggled, soft, but hollow, empty. _Like an Avatar, a thousand voices and one._

"Ignore me. I'm tired, and I'm just thinking out loud. Think of it as something to ponder, as I prepare to face the process of putting the world back together." She bowed her head. "I thank you, fellow Avatars."

They didn't say anything. They all looked lost, confused. They returned her bow, and vanished.

The last thing she saw, before the blue faded into nothingness, was a young Air Nomad boy named Aang, smiling at her over his shoulder as he walked away, his eyes full of hope…

_Of trust fulfilled, and faith rewarded…_

She smiled back, and winked, and then closed her eyes and resumed her meditations.

After all, she was the Avatar, and had an image to maintain. The world had forgotten what an Avatar was like, and she was determined to remind them.

* * *

Korra's up to something, ladies and gentlemen, because, and don't forget, the Krew is right.

Korra's still there, buried deep inside, biding her time. She has a final move to make, a very dangerous move, and Lord only knows how it will end.

Or if she will even survive it.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Jiro's dangling by a thread over the precipice, and the thread is beginning to fray. Stay tuned!


	111. JIRO IX

JIRO

"GENERAL, IF I MIGHT HAVE A WORD…"

Jiro looked up. He stood in the middle of his office, the room a shambles. He had torn it apart, ripped drawers from desks and cabinets, scattered papers hither-and-yon, emptied out the cubby-holes, rummaged under tables and poked into corners. He was still in his armor, or what remained of it, after his cousin had done his utmost best to put Jiro in the grave. He still didn't quite understand how he had survived, how he had gotten away. It was all a blur…

_All a blur…_

He closed his eyes, pinched his nose. _Hard. _Even then, he felt no pain. He could feel nothing, not a single gods-damn _thing, _through his pounding, throbbing headache. He couldn't eat, couldn't think, could barely _function. _Even breathing was torture, with the way he felt. His head hurt, his body hurt, he was pretty sure he sprained something somewhere, he couldn't be certain, not with the way his head felt, all he could do was quaff wine as if the grapes themselves were going extinct, one bottle after the other. He felt none of it, no relief, but it did dull the pain a bit.

Or, at least, _it seemed to. _Right then, he would've taken that, or anything at all, if only he could at least get some sleep.

A throat cleared itself with a gentle, polite cough. "General, are you there? Can you hear me?"

Jiro looked up once more. _When did I look down? Didn't I just look up? All a blur…a blur…blur…smoke…like smoke…_

_ He was coming out of the smoke Agni Himself coming through the smoke and the flames and his eye he has only one eye like fire the fires of hell itself coming for me to drag me down and down and-_

He took a deep, rattling, painful breath, let it out, and through gritted teeth, managed to speak. "The fuck do you want?"

A huff, unmistakable. Jiro's head snapped up (_or was it already up it's a blur all a blur I don't understand not my karma not my destiny all a blur_), and there, before him, framed in the doorway, the hulking forms of Royal Guardsmen just outside in the hall, was _him. The Idiot. The Fool. The Fuck. _Imawano Kiyoshiro bowed his head, and put on a brave smile. "And a good morning to you, General."

Jiro frowned. "Morning? When was it morning? I just got here…"

Kiyoshiro shook his head. "I'm afraid not, General. You rode through the gates hours ago, on a komodo-rhino covered in blood, half-crazed from its injuries. You abandoned it, right there, and came straight here. I'm afraid the men at the gate had to put the poor thing out of its misery."

Jiro pinched his nose once more, his other hand fumbling wildly about for his bottle of wine, since he had long since dispensed with glasses. _They shake too much there's something wrong with them I can't pour wine into them they keep bouncing about and-_

"Whatever," he snarled, taking a deep pull from the bottle, not even bothering to wipe up the wine that came dribbling down over his stubble-covered chin. "Who cares about some fucking komodo-rhino? Point is, it's morning, is it?"

Kiyoshiro nodded. "It is indeed, General."

Jiro scowled into the back corner of the room, where Kojima lounged, casually propping up a wall, grinning from ear-to-ear, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Hey, don't look at me, my lord," he said, his voice jaunty and relaxed. "Since when was I your time-keeper?"

Jiro had no answer to that, so he didn't bother to make one. He tore his gaze away from Kojima (_one day I swear one day I'll kill you and you'll stay dead I swear one day_), back to Kiyoshiro. "Like I said, _what-the-fuck-ever. _The hell do you want, Lord Chancellor? As you can see, I'm busy."

Kiyoshiro looked around the room, his expression the perfect picture of _not impressed. _"So it seems…might I ask _what, _exactly, it is that you are doing?"

Jiro opened his mouth, the answer at the tip of his tongue, and…

_Had nothing._

His mind was a complete blank. Shame and rage in equal measures welled up from within. He fumbled and fumed, the pain in his head doubled, no, it _tripled, _he almost passed out from the searing, slicing pain, right then and there. He could almost swear that he was teetering, wobbling…

"I…I was just looking for something, my lord." Jiro tried to put on a smile. He had no idea if it succeeded.

"I see…" Kiyoshiro frowned, his jaw working as if he was chewing on something, before, finally, he spoke. "Well, don't worry, you won't have to work much longer."

"I…I don't understand…"

"I'm sure you don't. I'm here to accept your resignation, General. You have performed admirably in the service of His Majesty's Government, but I'm afraid that it is quite obvious that the stress has overwhelmed you. You will, of course, be generously rewarded for your contributions, but I think it would be best if you took a bit of leave. I can even recommend a few places for you."

Jiro's jaw worked. His lips formed words, his tongue danced about in his mouth, but no words came. He had nothing to say, nothing at all. He didn't understand. He looked to Kojima, lounging in his corner, still smiling, still relaxed.

Kojima just shrugged. "It's like I keep telling you, my lord, you can't say that I haven't been warning you…"

Jiro scowled, but turned away. His mind fumbled, the grinding of the gears almost audible, no, it _was _audible. _How can they not hear it? How can I be the only one…_

_ The only one…_

He looked Kiyoshiro directly in the eye. "No."

Kiyoshiro looked disappointed, but not surprised. "In that case, General, then I'm afraid I must insist."

"You can insist all you fucking want," Jiro snarled, "but I'm not resigning, you miserable little insect. The Fire Lord Himself put me in this position, and only the Fire Lord Himself can remove me, either Him, or the Crown Regent, who rules in His place. Until such time as the Crown Regent orders me sacked, I shall continue to carry out my duties."

He liked the way his voice sounded. For a moment, he almost felt like his old self.

_Until he looked into that corner, and saw Kojima laughing at him with his eyes…_

_ His eyes…_

_ Eye…_

_**That eye…like fire…like death…piercing through the smoke…**_

_** Coming…coming for me…coming here…HERE!**_

"Was there anything else?" Jiro asked, smiling for all that he was worth.

Kiyoshiro sighed, and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I will leave you to it." He bowed. "Good day, General."

With that, the Lord Chancellor of the Privy Council turned and left, not even bothering to wait for a bow. This was good, because Jiro didn't bother to render one.

In fact, Jiro had completely forgotten about the man the second he turned around and walked out the door. It wasn't anything _bad, _for his brain to forget all about it. He was just busy, see?

Though what he was busy with, even he didn't know. All he knew was that it was important, no matter how much Kojima chuckled at him. It just drove Jiro on even harder.

_I'll show them._

_ I'll show them __**all.**_

_I'm not beaten. I can't be._

_ That's not my destiny._

He looked up at Kojima, who just kept chuckling, just kept smiling.

_…right…?_

* * *

I don't know _why _I keep ending on Jiro chapters. For all that it has a certain sense of symmetry, and often seems like a good place to tie up a day's updates, it's really irking my wife, and trust me, you don't want to see my wife when she's irked.

I mean, she still loves me and all, but she really can't stand Jiro. For that matter, neither can I. Is it a bad thing that I seem to be good at writing psychotic villains who are teetering on the bring of insanity? I sure hope not...

For those playing the home game, why can't Kiyoshiro just up and remove Jiro? Because Jiro can claim his was a royal appointment, and make a scandal at a moment when Kiyoshiro _really _doesn't need a scandal. Why can't Kiyoshiro just go bully Yoshihito into relieving Jiro himself? Because Kiyoshiro is too busy and too tired to push his luck like that.

But don't think he's just going to leave Jiro in place and do nothing to control the damage. There are many different ways to deal with a bad commander; trying to get them to resign is just the beginning.

So, that's all for today! I know, I already admitted it, annoying place to leave it, but it works. It's really amusing me that I apparently wrote this story in five-chapter-at-a-time sequences. It's like my subconscious is a genius or something; I really couldn't have planned this out like this, if I'd been actively trying.

I _do _get to go see _Age of Ultron _tonight, if all goes well! I'm pretty stoked. I'm pretty sure I said that yesterday, but whatever, like I said, _so totally stoked._

Moving on! In the next chapter, Katara's tired, but hopeful. Stay tuned!


	112. KATARA VII

KATARA

THE SUN WAS COMING UP BY THE TIME SHE WENT OUT FOR SOME FRESH AIR. Katara had been healing ever since the battle, all through the night, never stopping, never resting, pausing only to chug some water and grab something to nibble on as she went back to work. She was bone tired, her eyelids heavy weights made of stone, her feet long since numb and gone from her senses. She stood outside Zuko's tent, leaning against one of the poles that held up the little cover over the entrance. She knew what it was called, but the word was lost, far beyond her ability to reach or care at the moment.

She sighed. She didn't even want to know what she looked like just then. Her hair was pulled back in a big, sloppy ponytail, her clothes spattered in blood, a rag draped over her shoulder, similarly smeared, though at least her hands were clean. _More or less. _She crossed her arms, hugged herself tight, and looked off towards the east.

The sun was rising, and she had to admit, it was a nice night. For all that had happened the day before, for all that could be happening on the far side of the world, right now, at least, it was okay. Her husband was alive, their casualties had been far lighter than they had expected (most of her effort had been spent on healing those who had opposed them), and the way to Miyako and victory was wide open. The night was warm, but in a soft, gentle sort of way, a light breeze moving through the air, the trees dotting the lines of hills behind her whispering in the stillness of the dawn.

_You know, it really is a beautiful country. _Once, when she was a little girl, she had believed the stories told around fires late at night, of the Fire Nation as a place dark and brooding and evil. _Nope, it's just a place, like any other. It's people who are the eternal problem._

She lifted her hand, twirled the cigarette she had pulled from the pack on her husband's nightstand around her fingers. _Now, if only I can get this thing lit, it'll be perfect…_

"Think I can help you with that?"

The voice came out of nowhere, and she almost jumped at the sound. She put a hand to her chest, saw who it was, and laughed at herself. _Wandering around in my own little world. I swear, sometimes, I'm as bad as Sokka. _"Hey, Toshiro. And, as a matter of fact, you can."

Toshiro chuckled, bending a flame from his thumb and giving her the required light. She took a long, deep drag. Normally, she got all the nicotine she needed from just inhaling the smoke produced by Zuko and Azula (_and by Fire Nation soldiers in general_, she thought with a smirk), but tonight, well…

_I needed some direct application, okay?_

Soon, Toshiro had his own smoke going, and they stood there, watching the dawn, saying not a word.

"So," Toshiro asked, and she could feel the grimace in his words, "how is he?"

She sighed, darkness tugging at her heart. "He broke his left arm, not horribly, but bad enough, and his lower right leg is…well, it's a bit of a mess. But he'll heal, _trust me, _just fine, really. Some scaring on his leg, so he'll be able to compare battle scars with Song."

Toshiro chuckled. "Song would get a kick out of that. But, he'll be okay?"

She nodded. "He's sleeping right now, but he'll be just fine."

Toshiro gave her a knowing look out of the corner of his eye. "Mad at him?"

She scoffed. "Mad? Toshiro, I'm fucking _furious. _Of course, I've already completely forgiven him, because that bastard Matsuura was making a run for it, and Zuko couldn't wait for Azula and I, he had one shot and he took it."

"Also," Toshiro observed, sounding wistful, "you're madly in love with him."

"Heh…that, too, but still, do I _have _to patch him up after every battle? He's worse than my brother, I fucking _swear._"

"Yeah…he was like that back in our Academy days, too. Always pushing himself too hard, getting himself hurt somehow, and always pretending he was fine. At least now, he admits it."

She rolled her eyes. "_Please. _He doesn't admit a damn thing. I just ignore what he says and make him do what he needs to do."

Toshiro laughed, loud and full. "That you do, my dear, that you do. You know…you would make an excellent Fire Lady."

Katara closed her eyes, settling her head against the pole, breathing deep, taking in the smell of cooking fires and leather and steel and the collision of sea and land. _Life. This is what we're fighting for. The right to life, to __**live, **__free…_

_ Free…_

"You know what, Toshiro? I would. Can't be any more irritating than riding herd on the Avatar." Something tugged at her heart, but she ignored it. _Not now. There's too much to do, and I need all the hope I can get._

Toshiro chuckled. "No, Katara, I imagine not." He took a final pull from his cigarette, tossed it to the ground. "Oh, and before I forget, Azula wants to see you when you get a moment."

Katara nodded. "I figured." She took her own final puff, snuffed the cigarette out with a dab of water bent from the waterskin at her hip. "Everything going alright for her?"

Toshiro scoffed. "Of course it is. Still…she needs you before a final decision is made on what to do next."

Katara frowned. "What, they won't listen to her?"

"Of course they will, but since Prince Zuko is incapacitated, the Princess Katara must stand in his place alongside the Princess Azula." He turned to her, bowed low and deep, full at the waist. "Your Highness." And with that, he departed, whistling a happy little tune.

It took her a while to snap out of the stupor he had thrown her into. _Princess Katara? _No one had ever called her that before, at least to her face. It made her wonder what Azula needed to talk to her about.

Somehow, she suspected that it was something complicated.

_Though, _she thought as she headed off to the command tent, _I'd be lying if I tried to say that I didn't like the sound of __**Princess Katara.**_

* * *

Good morning, readers! How's everyone doing today? I know I'm pretty chill. For those playing the home game, yes, I did get to see _Age of Ultron _last night, and it was pretty fucking dope. Plus, the theater the wife and I went to have _goddamn fucking recliners, _which was _**awesome. **_The wife damn near dozed off, we were so comfortable.

Oh, and because I feel like throwing my two cents in, I saw the two scenes that everyone was freaking out on Joss Wheddon for, and my opinion is...you know, sexism in Hollywood, especially of the _subtle, unthinking kind _is a real problem, and one that needs to go away. That said...there is, as much as it pains me to admit, such a thing as being _too _sensitive, and it's often counter-productive. When one freaks out over something that's not actually there, one risks losing credibility. This would seem to be one of those times. *shrugs* YMMV on that, especially when the dude saying it is a straight white dude, the very _definition _of privilege. Still, the wife is on my side, so let's pretend this is wholly my opinion. :-D

Where was I...right! Story! Setting up for the final act! Woo!

Moving on! In the next chapter, Jin decides she really needs a win. Stay tuned!


	113. JIN IV

JIN

WHEN SHE HAD IMAGINED THE DAY HER CITY WOULD BE FULLY LIBERATED, JIN HAD PICTURED A LOT OF THINGS. Through all the years of cowering, first from the rule of the Emperor, and then from the rule of the Fire Lord, through all the nights of restless dreaming and all the days of relentless plotting, she had pictured it. She had seen ecstatic crowds, cheering themselves hoarse. In her mind's eye, she could see, like a painting come to life, the endless files of victorious rebels, smiling and laughing and waving, joyful girls hanging around their necks, and, yes, sometimes, in her lonelier moments, _she was only human after all, _she saw herself joining those same giggling girls.

But never, in all her life, had she ever thought that, on the first night after the fall of Long Feng and his dreaded Dai Li, on the night after the great battle where an army of all four nations had sent the Fire Lord reeling back with a bloody nose, never could she have imagined that she would spend that night wandering a field of corpses.

It was horrid, worse than anything she had ever experienced, or thought she might experience. The shrouded bodies seemed to stretch as far as her eyes could see, rows upon rows. Some looked as if they had just laid down to sleep, and could get up, stretch, and ask for something to eat at any moment. Others, though…

_Even the shrouds can't hide what happened…_

The smell was even worse. No matter how many priests wandered the rows, swinging incense burners, no matter how tightly she pressed the scented rag to her mouth and her nose, no matter how many little incense sticks burned outside of countless little makeshift shrines, the summer was still on its way, and the night was humid and hot.

She would've retched, if she hadn't already emptied her stomach thrice over.

None of which prepared her for when she found who she was looking for.

He was one of the lucky ones, whatever that meant in such times. When she crouched down over the body, read the tag that was pinned to the shroud, her hand shook like a leaf in the wind. Even as she pulled the shroud back, held the lamp in her hand to his face, she couldn't quite believe it. But no, there he was, still, his skin ice cold, his chest unmoving. She reached out, her breath hot and sharp in her throat, tears burning like hot pokers in her eyes. She brushed her hand along his face, gasped at the chill that nestled in his body, in defiance of the heat. She found herself toying with the tips of his mustache, not entirely sure why.

She sighed, closed her eyes, shook her head. "Oh, Haru," she whispered, her words soft and tattered, as shredded as her soul in that moment. "I liked you, you know that? There weren't many boys who treated me like a person, instead of just a silly girl, but you were one." She swallowed the lump in her throat, a pointless endeavor, because it obviously wasn't going anywhere. "And you were cute, too, still are." She smiled, because, deep in her heart, she knew he could see. "I think my mother would've liked you. Father, too, once he got used to you." Gently, carefully, she opened her eyes, pulled the shroud back over his face. "When you meet your ancestors, don't let them push you around. Remember: They lost the Earth Kingdom, but you took it back. Don't let them forget it."

With that, she stood, carefully brushing the dirt and the grass from her skirts. She suddenly felt very tired, and very cold. She hugged herself tight, and shuddered from the chill that crawled up her spine. She didn't move, though; she would never be entirely sure why.

The cough was what drew her attention, the cough and the muttered, "Um, excuse me, my lady…?"

She turned, found herself facing a thickset boy, no more than eighteen-or-nineteen-years-old, with armor that was battered and scorched and a blood-stained bandage tied tight around his right arm. Confused, she fell back on her manners, bowed respectfully, and tried to smile. "Yes, um…?"

He returned the bow, but in a Fire Nation way, which puzzled her, since he had an Earth Kingdom look and wore a rebel's greens-and-browns. "Umm…" He tugged at his collar, grimacing, obviously embarrassed. She soon found out why; his Putonghua was ghastly, spoken as if he had his mouth full of porridge. "I'm Torihada Bolin, my lady," another bow, "and I was wondering if you could tell me where they took the Fire Nation fallen."

She frowned, not sure what he was getting at, or why. "Oh…um…" She nibbled her lip, searching her thoughts, and finally had to shrug. "I'm not entirely sure. I think I heard something about how they were taking them to a cremation pit to the south, where the airbenders can keep the smoke away from the city."

He sighed, and nodded. "Yeah, I was afraid of that…"

He looked so forlorn that she felt an impulsive need to help him, why, she couldn't even begin to guess. "May I ask why? Oh, and, before I forget, my name's Jin, Ch'en Jin." She bowed her head, a bow he returned.

"A pleasure, Ch'en-san…or…hmm…that's not the correct form here, is it? Heh…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I grew up in the northwest, in Yu Dao, so…I don't really know how it's done out here…"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about it, umm…" She peeked through the gloom at his collar, at the hastily stitched-on rank markings. "Sergeant Torihada."

He cracked a smile that, somehow, did not seem at all out-of-place. "I won't, my lady. But…as to your question…" His smile faded, and his shoulders slumped. "I had a friend, a Fire Nation friend, Masakatsu was his name. I found his regiment, after the battle, they…" He sighed, a sigh that sounded far too familiar. "They told me he didn't make it. I was…I was hoping to find him, before he went into his urn. And…" His smile returned, not as strong as before, but it was there. "And I was hoping to find someone who might know what happened to my brother."

"He is in the Fire Nation army?" she asked.

He shook his head, looking disappointed. "Knowing how stubborn he is, he's probably on the other side, but I don't really care, as long as he's alive." His smile grew, turned a bit quirky. "We had a…_complicated _family, if you will."

She tried to smile back, she really did. "I understand. We live in changing times."

"Heh…we do, don't we? Can't say it's a bad thing, though."

Her face fell. "No, it's not…"

He blinked a few times, then bowed, low and deep. "I'm sorry, Ch'en-san. I really shouldn't be bothering you at a time like this." He rose. "I'll leave you alone."

Where the words came from, she would never know, and she didn't suppose it mattered. "Actually…do you mind if I come with you? I…I don't feel like going home just now, and with Putonghua like yours, I can imagine that you might need the help."

He chuckled. She rather liked the sound, or any sound, really, that wasn't sad. "You have me there…still…I don't want to inconvenience you…"

She stepped right past him, heading towards the south, towards where there was a faint glow on the horizon. "This whole _war _has already inconvenienced me, Sergeant, and I'm rather desperate for a victory right now. If I can help you find your friend and your brother, alive or dead, well…" She squared her shoulders. "I'll take what I can get, just now."

He followed, trailing at her heels. "As you say, my lady."

Between her Putonghua and his Nihongo, they found the cremation pits, just in time for Bolin for pay his respects and mutter a prayer she didn't understand as the fire sages put the boy named Masakatsu into the flames. She didn't know why it made her feel better, this simple act, but it did. She had done something, something small and probably meaningless, in the grand scheme of things, but she couldn't help but feel that it counted.

Afterwards, she made him come back to her parents' house, and let her mother stuff him full of food.

* * *

In just about every Hayao Miyazaki film (and for my new-found familiarity with Studio Ghibli, I give all the credit that can exist in the world to my wife, because, like I keep saying, she's smarter than I am), there's a scene involving food. It generally comes at a low (or low-ish) point for the protagonist, and there's always a beaming mother and/or father figure and the character eats and they let out their emotions, sometimes with tears. I imagine that's what happens when Jin drags Bolin back home for her mother to stuff with food.

Man...you know who drops like flies worse than major characters in this story? _Secondary characters. _They don't have much of a life span, do they?

Which reminds me...I don't know why I feel like saying this, but...the more I think about it, the more I'm glad I spared Sokka. Yeah, in a storytelling sense, it would've been a solid move, but suddenly I'm beginning to think it would've been a cheap shot, an easy way to ratchet up the suspense and audience apprehension. Why give myself that kind of out? Nah, it's far better for developing my storytelling skills with falling back on the good ole' _just kill somebody everyone loves _move, and I'm increasingly happy with the results.

Of course, I'm the guy who thinks that Wash didn't need to bite it in _Serenity, _so what do I know? Maybe I'm just not as heartless as I like to pretend.

I can hear you giggling, wifey. *tries to glare, fails miserably*

Moving on! In the next chapter, Pakku meets Toph, which _so _should've happened in Canon. Stay tuned!


	114. THE WATER MASTER III

THE WATER MASTER

AS PAKKU STRODE THROUGH THE HALLS OF THE HOUSE IN BA SING SE'S MIDDLE RING, HE WAS VERY ANNOYED. This, he felt, was justified, since he a lot to be annoyed about. For example, there was the fact that, after the long, agonizing process of getting his people into the war, not to mention the exhausting, headlong race to face the Fire Lord, to discover that it would all come down to some sort of _duel _between the Avatar and that same Fire Lord was a bit of a comedown. Then, there had been a day of seemingly unending meetings, as generals and leaders from all four nations wrangled out who was to go where for the coming confrontation. To be honest, finding out that the future High King of the Northern Water Tribe (_for so Pakku already thought of him; he could think of no one better, nor any reason why the offered crown would be refused_) was laid up in a bed, suffering from grievous injuries after officers from the Northern army had spent all day looking for him, had been little more than icing on the proverbial cake.

No, what really irked Pakku, what _really _got under his skin, was the fact that that pompous ass Tahno had found him.

_As if I didn't already have enough gods-damn headaches, _Pakku thought, allowing himself an uncharacteristic moment of blasphemy, _now I have to deal with that over-bred little prick and his smug little smile. _Because, of _course _Tahno had merely sent a runner to make the announcement, and of _course _Tahno would insist on being in the room, because, well, _of course._

Pakku huffed, pausing before he rounded the final corner to get himself correct. _Well, there's no helping it, is there? Might as well bite the sword and get it over with._ With that, he rounded the final corner, and found a rather disorienting scene.

He blinked a few times, trying to take it in. He had been expecting to find Captain Tahno preening, getting ready for his moment of glory. The details of the succession decree had been carefully controlled, but naturally, rumors had spread, and as much as Pakku disliked Tahno, he could not fault the man's intelligence. Tahno would put two-and-two together, and would take steps to ensure that he was one of the first to bow to his future king.

Instead, though, Tahno was slumped against a wall, looking like a child who had just been spanked, showing absolutely no sign of going anywhere or doing anything at all.

Confusion giving way to amusement, Pakku went up to the young man, and smiled. "Everything alright, Captain?"

Tahno huffed, jerking his head to move a few locks of hair from his eyes. "Yeah, sure, everything's just _fine. _He's in there. He's asleep, but he's in there."

Pakku nodded, feeling rather good about the turn of events. "I have to say, I expected you to already be in the room, currying favor."

Tahno rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, don't think I didn't _try. _But that…that…" Tahno struggled for words, before his shoulders slumped and the fight seemed to fade from him. "It doesn't matter. Go find out for yourself."

Pakku smiled from ear-to-ear; this, he had to admit, was a version of Captain Tahno that he quite enjoyed. "I certainly will." He bowed his head. "Good day, Captain."

Tahno snorted in derision. "We'll see what tune you're singing, _my lord, _once you meet _her._"

Not quite knowing what to make of that, Pakku put on his game-face, drew himself up to his most imposing, and stepped into the room.

Needless to say, he was a bit shocked to be greeted by the words, "If you're anything like that preening sparrowkeet out in the hall, you can go ahead and fuck off."

Pakku felt his mouth drop open, and couldn't do a thing to stop it. He stared, quite unable to do anything else, at the young woman who sat in a chair by the bed, legs outstretched, arms crossed over her chest, thick bangs covering her eyes, the chair tipped back in a way that shouldn't have been physically possible. After the shock wore off, he recovered himself just long enough to see that she was Earth Kingdom, and rendered his best attempt at a proper bow. "Why, my lady, I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure," he said in Putonghua. "And you would be…?"

The girl scoffed, and if she wasn't rolling her eyes, Pakku would've eaten a hat. "Your worst fucking nightmare," she growled in thickly accented, but quite good Inuktitut, "if you don't give me one good reason why I shouldn't chuck your ass out the window."

Pakku looked around the room. "I'm afraid there isn't a window, my lady," he answered, dropping into his native tongue in his confusion.

The girl gave him a rather disheartening grin. "Then I'll just have to make one, won't I?" She snapped her fingers through the air. "Now, come on. I've had a pretty shitty day, and that Kuvira harpy wasn't nearly the kind of stress relief I was hoping for."

His eyes flew wide in realization. "Wait…_you're _Toph Bei Fong, the girl who took down the Commander of the Dai Li in single combat?" He wasn't entirely sure why, seeing how the girl couldn't have been more than eighteen, and was small and petite to boot (_and supposedly blind, according to the rumors_), but, somehow, he didn't doubt her.

The girl's grin grew wider and far more predatory than Pakku would've liked. "Damn fucking straight I am. So, keep that in mind, because the clock is ticking, unless you want to find out if you cry as easily as Prissy McBitch-Pants outside did."

Pakku laughed; he couldn't help it. "You made Captain Tahno _cry?"_

The girl giggled in a way that didn't match her demeanor. "Only took six minutes. Not a personal best, I admit, but it's up there. Two minutes."

Pakku blinked. "Come again?"

"Two minutes, Old Man, before I lay into you, and that's only because you laughed at Little Miss Priss just now. So, you know," another snap of the fingers, "get to it."

He nodded, feeling stressed, why, he couldn't even _begin _to guess. "Well…um…_right. _Well…as it happens, I come here as a representative of His Majesty High King Arnook of the-"

"Yeah, yeah, High Dick Arnookie of the Northern Douche Tribe. I've heard the name. Get to the gods-damn point."

He bristled at the flippant way she had just referred to his king, but something told him to let it slide. "Right then…as I was saying, I'm here to inform Lord Sokka that he has been chosen by His Majesty as the heir to the throne of the Northern Water Tribe. All he has to do is accept the honor, and the announcement will be made public."

This time, to his chagrin, it was the girl's turn to look shocked. Her mouth fell open, and for a few moments, she seemed to not have a thing to say.

To no one's surprise, not even Pakku's, that didn't last long.

"No shit?"

Pakku bowed his head. "Indeed, my lady."

The courtesies seemed to bring her back to earth. "Okay, first off, Lord Snoozles here is asleep, and he's not waking up anytime soon. Second off, you call me _my lady _again, and I swear by all the gods that I'll punt your ass through the door. We clear?"

To his shame, he felt intimidated. It annoyed him greatly; the last woman who had managed to make him blink was the Lady Katara, and before that, Kanna. "Um…alright, then." He gestured weakly at the slumbering Sokka, unsure why. "What happened?"

The girl sighed, and for the first time since Pakku had walked in the door, looked vaguely human. "Turns out that that demon-spawn Long Feng was tougher than he looked. We got him, but not before he managed to get two of us. No one died, thank whoever you feel like thanking, but it was bad."

Pakku felt his heart turn to stone and drop into his stomach. _Gods, now what? _"How bad?" he asked, not at all wanting to hear the answer.

Sadly, she obliged him. "Suki got a dislocated shoulder, a severe concussion, a broken leg, a broken arm, a couple broken ribs, and a body covered in bruises."

He frowned. "Who's Suki?"

"One of the best motherfucking people on the planet," she snapped, in a way that made him instinctively take a step back, "so make sure you remember that. As for Lord Snoozles here," she jerked her head at the sleeping form in question, "it was a lot worse." She took a deep breath, then launched into the summary. "Severe concussion, both legs broken, broken ribs, some internal damage, one shoulder dislocated, the other arm amputated at the elbow."

Pakku blanched; he couldn't help it. He took a step forward, and saw, to his horror, that it was true. The brash boy he had known what felt like a lifetime before was pale as the sheets that covered him, and under those sheets, a left arm that ended far too soon. He leaned back, closed his eyes, muttered a quick prayer. "Will he live?"

The girl named Toph shot him a look that both confirmed she was blind and supported the notion that, to her at least, that didn't matter for even one damn. "Gods-damn right he will. He's tough, he'll pull through. The healers say the worst is over. They did their best, but they couldn't save the arm; too shattered, it seems."

Pakku nodded, opening his eyes once more. "Does he know?"

"Kind of? Naturally, he came out of it just long enough to say, _Hey, I only need one arm to eat, so, as long as they promise not to lop off the big, important one by mistake, it's all cool. _Then, he burped, farted, and passed back out."

Pakku couldn't help but chuckle. "Naturally. Well…I'll be sending over our own healers as soon as possible, if that's alright."

She shrugged. "Hey, the more, the merrier. Just make sure they have senses of humor. Oh, yeah, and no chicks."

_What? _"Beg pardon?"

She rolled her eyes and huffed. "I'm vulnerable to temptation at the moment, and I'm saving myself for someone."

Pakku still didn't follow. "But…what would…um…_women _have to do with that?"

She did something that could only be called a _chortle. _"Oh, you're too cute. You'll have to come back around, when I have more of an audience."

"Okay then…well…I must be off." He gave her another bow. "Good day, my…um…_miss. _Be so kind as to tell him when he wakes next."

She giggled. "Oh, don't worry, I will. Now," she made a _shooing _gesture with her hand, "off is the general direction in which I would like you to fuck."

"Um…pardon?"

She snapped her fingers once more. "And be quick about it, if you please."

For all that Pakku was very proud of his reputation as a _Stubborn Old Man, _he didn't need to be told twice. He fled, confidant, at the very least, in that his future king was in good hands. Genuinely disturbing and unsettling hands, _true, _but good hands nonetheless.

Though it took him at least another day to figure out what the Lady Bei Fong had meant when she'd mentioned women. He was shocked and vaguely disgusted, of course, but he couldn't help but feel that it was somehow appropriate. _And besides, _he eventually concluded, _she's not **my** daughter, thank the gods._

_ After all, it'll be bad enough having the Lady Katara as a genuine princess._

* * *

Oh, Pakku, you have no idea how lucky you just were. Not many can walk in on Toph in a bad mood and live to tell the tale.

That one was pretty self-explanatory; no need to linger.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we check in with someone we spent all of Book One and most of Book Two despising. Stay tuned!


	115. THE EMPTY PRINCE I

THE EMPTY PRINCE

HIS MIND REELED, AND HIS HEAD HURT. It was, Yoshihito supposed, his own fault. _As usual, I have no one to blame but myself. _It was strange, that kind of thought occurring to him. He still didn't quite know what to make of this new self, this Yoshihito who was no prince, whose every waking moment was a trial.

_If I'd known what it was like to not be a prince, _he thought as he gulped down his latest glass of fire whiskey and poured himself another, _I would never have bothered. I would've begged Aunt Ursa to put an end to it, before I mucked anything else up._

And yet, here he was, blindly plugging on, standing on the balcony of the Palace, looking out across a darkened Miyako. The air was thick and humid, the Summer of the Comet just around the corner. Already, powerful firebenders were swaggering around, claiming they could feel the power in their blood. Once, Yoshihito would have been right there with them. After all, he was a prince, was he not? And if lesser men could brag, well, then he could brag, too.

_Only, I'm not a prince anymore, and now I suspect that they were all as full of shit as I was. _He grimaced, looked deep down into his glass. _Or still am. I'm not quite sure, to be honest._

He gave himself a derisive snort. _Like I ever was? Anyone who needs their aunt's boot to the face to realize that they're no prince, but just an asshole, deserves whatever they get._

He sighed, looked once more to the city, and the mountains beyond, faint lumps of darkness in the night. _Whatever they get…_

"It's a strange sight, isn't it?"

He turned his head, a process that was harder than it should have been, though with his aching head and his somewhat flimsy grasp on reality, he supposed he should just be grateful that he could manage even that much. There, beside him, her face cast in strange shadows by the light leaking out from the room behind them, stood his youngest sister, the Princess Natsumi. As usual, she looked utterly exquisite, as beautiful as the night was dark and the world full of terrors. Her expression was distant, far away, her eyes shrouded in deep pools of shadow, only the faint glitter of gold from her pupils telling him that those eyes were open.

He turned back to Miyako, and sighed. "What is?"

His sister gave a bored shrug. "The city," she said, in a voice that sounded unfamiliar, though he couldn't be sure, it wasn't like he had ever paid so much as a counterfeit _sen's _worth of attention to her before. _I'm no Zuko, throwing himself between Azula and Uncle Ozai's drunken fists. I never was, and I never will be. _For reasons he could not begin to fathom, this thought depressed him unlike any thought ever had before.

Meanwhile, his sister kept talking. "As long as I can remember, I've stepped out on this balcony, like you are now, and looked out at Miyako. And always, Miyako was like a carpet of fire spread out at my feet." She paused, and he looked to her, just in time to catch the bizarre quirk of a smile spreading across her face. Miyako was no longer a _carpet of fire, _lights put out by the curfew that was now in effect, but he could see that much, or at least sense it. "You know, I used to come out here every chance I got, whenever Mother would throw one of her little dinner parties. I would get to where I couldn't take it anymore, and sneak out here. When Azula was unlucky enough to be dragged along, she would sneak out with me. Heh…she always had a smoke that I could steal."

Yoshihito frowned. Never, in all of his life, had his youngest sister spoken like this to him, or really spoken to him at all. All he could think to say was to ask, "You were friends with Azula?"

Natsumi responded with another shrug. "I suppose you could call it that. We were the same age, you know, so it was more like…heh…" She chuckled, deep in the back of her throat. "I guess I just always felt that she was a kindred spirit, you know? A princess who didn't think much of being a princess. But…for what it was worth, she was the only person in my life who ever told me the truth, who never lied to me. That's why I hate you so much."

That Yoshihito wasn't thrown for a complete loop, he chalked up to the fire whiskey. That, and the fact that he had long since given up trying to count how many people loathed him. "Come again?"

His sister's words were harsh, but her voice was not. It was soft and warm as the night itself, and that strange smile remained on her lips. "It's your fault, what happened to Zuko. When the banishment was made official, I tried to go to Azula, to be her friend. She slapped me across the face and told me to go to hell, that if she was truly my friend, I'd go, right then and there, and slit your throat from ear-to-ear. Even gave me a knife to do it with. Mai was there, and that common girl, whatever her name was, and I turned to them, but I swear, if looks could kill, the one Mai shot me would've struck me dead right then and there."

"But…you didn't kill me…" He had no idea where the words had come from, and as soon as they appeared, he wanted nothing more than for them to die before they reached her ears.

They didn't, because the gods hated him, for which he could no longer bring himself to blame them for. _After all, I agree with them now. I'm just a wretched, pathetic excuse for a human being. What else could I be, since I'm not a prince?_

"No," she said, and her voice suddenly became sad, as if she regretted the fact, "I didn't. I couldn't. You're my brother, at the end of the day, and the gods hate nothing so much as they hate a kinslayer. And besides, it would break Mother's heart."

As if in answer, the voice of Her Majesty the Fire Lady sliced out from the room behind them. What his mother was saying, Yoshihito could not begin to guess, and somehow, he supposed it didn't matter. _Heh…you always told me that I would have to learn how to tell what was important, didn't you, Kojima? Well, I finally learned._

_ Only took my aunt's boot to the face to figure it out._

Then Yoshihito thought of the fact that, eventually, he would have to go back inside, and sit down across from his mother, and his stomach turned. He hastily emptied his glass, and poured another, and emptied and re-filled that one, too.

"Why do you drink so much, Brother?"

He shrugged, feeling like it was his turn. "Because…I'm not a prince anymore, which means that I'm just a human being. And…well…being a human being is exhausting, and painful, especially when you've done the kinds of things I've done." A few of those things ran through his mind, not least among them the reason why he knew _exactly _what the name of Azula's _common friend _was. Bile burned at the back of his throat, bile he fought back down with more whiskey, how much, he couldn't be sure, and didn't care.

"So, you drink, because it makes it all easier to deal with?"

He didn't know whether to shrug or cry, so he just drank another glass. "I'd say it's more that it deadens things a bit. I'm new to being human, you know."

"So, you're miserable."

"Honestly, I don't even know what that word means."

"Well…that's what you are. You're miserable, and you'd rather be back in your cell than here."

He sighed. "At least no one bothered me in my cell."

"You could kill yourself."

He nodded. "I could…but I don't really deserve that honor, do I? Not yet, at least." He realized, with a shock, that his glass was full again, how, he didn't know. Figuring there wasn't anything else to do, he drained it. "Why are you saying all this to me, Natsumi?"

There was a long pause, and then a swish of silk as his sister turned on her heel and began to head back inside. He gave up on ever hearing an answer, until, her hand on the door, she gave one.

"Because, until you came back from your cell, you'd never once, in my entire life, used my name. Because, I wanted to know what it was like to not have a useless prick for a brother. Because I felt someone should know that my husband, the husband Mother chose for me based on his birth and his loyalty, commands a company in one of the regiments that's mutinied, and I look forward to giving him a hero's welcome when he returns."

He smiled into his glass. "Fair enough. Any other reasons?"

A pause, and then: "Yes. You don't speak in court language anymore, which means it's much less tiresome to talk to you." Then a door slid open, and slid closed, and he was left all alone, staring out at a darkened city, the only life on display being life that wore a uniform.

He turned, towards the south, not knowing what was out there, but wishing it would get to him sooner, because he was getting really tired of being a human being.

_To be brutally honest, _he told his bottle, _it kind of sucks._

* * *

Didn't know you could ever feel a twinge of sympathy for Yoshihito, did you? I mean, the guy totally deserves everything that's happened and continues to happen to him, and trust me, he's not off the hook for _anything. _Still...takes some of the joy out of hate when the object of hate finally realizes that they suck, doesn't it?

And it's never fun to watch a fellow human being, no matter how worthless, shatter like cheap glass.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Azula talks things over with Katara. Stay tuned!


	116. AZULA VI

AZULA

THE NUMBER OF TIMES THAT AZULA HAD BEEN AT A LOSS FOR WHAT TO SAY, OR, AT THE VERY LEAST, FOR WHAT TO DO, WAS VERY SMALL. In fact, she was pretty sure she could count them all on both hands. There had been her seventeenth birthday, when her mother had informed her that it was time to arrange a marriage for her, and that she knew just the man. Then, there had been when she was eleven, and Mai had told Azula, with tears in her eyes, that she considered Azula to be her best friend, princess or no. Then there were a few other moments, including the worst moment in her entire life.

_When I stood before Ty Lee's pyre, and couldn't think of a single thing to say._

She sighed, and looked up to meet her sister-in-law's gaze. They were alone, just the two of them facing each other across a rickety table in the map-room of the army's command tent. Laid out on the table between them was a map of the area to the south of Miyako, with all the relevant positions and information clearly marked. A haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air, leftovers from the meeting that had only recently concluded, a haze that Azula was only too happy to add to. Katara had so far abstained, seeming content to breathe it all in.

Azula rolled her eyes at herself. _None of which answers the question. Because, say what one will about my sister-in-law, but she knows how to get to the very heart of the matter._

_ And what is the heart of the matter? she asked herself. Oh, that's easy, Katara already said it: __**So, Zula, what's the problem?**_

She grimaced. _What's the problem, indeed? _On the surface, there was no problem. They had smashed the only real organized threat between them and Miyako. All that was needed was a quick, two-day march, and then they would stand before the gates. Whether they stormed the city or not, the mere fact that they could be there, waving their rebel flags under Fire Lord Meiji's walls, was all that needed to be said. In short, there was no problem.

_Except one. _She reached in her pocket, grasped the cold, hard thing that was there, and tossed it out upon the table. It rolled across the table, flashing like golden fire in the flickering torchlight, before coming to rest with a _clunk _right in front of Katara. Azula watched as her sister-in-law looked down, frowned, blinked, looked up, down, up once more. Finally, eyes locked on Azula, Katara reached down, grasped the thing, held it in her hand as if it was some kind of hideous snake, a monster straight out of the depths of the darkest legend.

_And, _Azula thought, _maybe it is. _In the meantime, she stood, and waited, until Katara asked the question that needed to be asked, as she so often did.

"The hell is this?"

Azula blew a dejected breath out through her nose, reaching a hand up to fiddle with the sloppy bun on the back of her head. "That, my dear sister-in-law, is a royal head piece. You slide it onto your topknot, and _voila, _you're Fire Nation royalty."

Katara nodded, her eyes flicking back to the little lump of finely wrought gold. "Uh huh," she said, sounding as incredulous as Azula felt. "And who gave you this?"

"General Hattori," Azula replied, naming the general who commanded their army. "Apparently, Lord Mifune-"

"Toshiro's father, right?"

"Yeah, that guy. So, like I was saying, Lord Mifune had it made, not long after Toshiro got back to Sapporo. And no," she continued, raising a hand to ward off the _Katara Rant _she saw forming in the girl she now thought of as a friend's eyes, "before you ask, Toshiro didn't know."

Katara gave Azula one of her patented _looks, _and crossed her arms. "And how can you be sure of that?"

Azula popped an eyebrow, and gave a _look _right back. "Because I'm me?"

Katara considered it, than nodded. "Fair enough." She cracked the kind of smile that made clear to Azula, as nothing else did, just why her brother was so gaga over the girl. "You know, one of these days, I'm going to find a way to distill some of your confidence and inject it into your brother."

Azula scoffed. "I know, right? But then he wouldn't be such a lovable dork."

Katara giggled. "Oh, I highly doubt that. I'd still like him."

Azula bit down on a gag. _Of course you would. _"Anyways…as you can see, I'm kind of at an impasse…"

Katara extended an arm, gazed at the headpiece that was cupped in her hand. "So, here we are…"

Azula sighed, looked down at the map before her. "Yes, here we are…"

_Here we are, _she thought, watching Katara's face, knowing, with as much faith as she knew her own name, that the girl's thoughts were completely in line with her own, step-by-step. _Here we are, at the head of an army of revolutionaries, half of which isn't really all that revolutionary. Here we are, on the verge of toppling my uncle from his throne, having no intention of putting someone else in his place. Here we are, playing a miniature version of that thing called __**court politics, **__caught between conservatives who want my brother on the throne or, failing that, me, and the radicals who are at least half-expecting us to betray everything they've been fighting for._

_ Here we are, in need of a way to appease them both, to assuage the fears and insecurities of those who aren't quite ready for the final leap, and reassure the suspicions of those who think it should've been made a long time ago. Here we are, needing to march on Miyako at the head of an army, and not have it appear to be yet one more Fire Nation civil war. Here we are, needing to represent the future, but not chaos, even though the future is, in its very nature, chaotic._

_ Here we are, needing to find a way to say __**no more, **__not just to the present, but also to the past. To Fire Lords, Emperors, feudal lords and petty kings, tyrants…_

_ And Avatars…_

_ Here we are…_

She blinked, confused, so lost in her thoughts that, when Katara had spoken, Azula had only been vaguely aware. "What was that?"

Katara didn't look up from her hand. She stood there, gazing at the headpiece, the whorl of gold that glimmered like the sun against her dark skin. "Huh?"

Azula rolled her eyes, more at herself than at anything else. "I was a thousand miles away for a moment there, but I could've sworn you said something. What was it?"

Katara's mouth quirked up in something that wasn't quite a smile, but wasn't quite the other thing, either. "I did say something, didn't I…"

Azula shrugged, rubbing the back of neck in a way that she was well aware made her look a lot like a female version of her brother. "Um…_I think so…? _Or were you just thinking out loud…?"

Katara shook her head, but strangely, as if she was lost in a fog, adrift in the tides and currents of history. "No, I said something…something very important…"

Azula cracked a smile as she popped a new cigarette in her mouth and prepared to light it. "Well, anytime you feel like letting me in on the secret…"

Then, to her surprise, Katara did just that. The best way to describe Azula's reaction would be to make very clear that her mouth fell open, allowing the cigarette to topple from her lips.

She forgot about it before it even hit the ground.

* * *

What the rebels are in need of is one big, grand gesture. Normally, Azula, who was always more royal in spirit than her brother, would have no difficulty coming up with one.

But then again, sometimes you need your just-as-smart sister-in-law to look at things from a different perspective.

What did Katara say? Well, you'll just have to find out!

Well, that's all for this morning! I have an annoying amount of _adult _to do today, _God help me, _and I gotta go finish the wife's coffee, as well as start getting ready for my weekend. Tomorrow, the wife and I are heading out for El Paso for a college friend of mine's wedding, and if all goes well, I will finish - yes, _**finish **_\- Ro4N _today, _which means I will totally be drunkenly celebrating with my wife all weekend in a town known for its taco scene. Am I excited? _Why, yes, yes I am. _

I was going to say something else... *taps chin* Oh well, no doubt it'll come back to me.

_Oh! _Just because I'm leaving town tomorrow, I will do my best to give you the next five chapters. Never fear!

Moving on! In the next chapter, Asami tries to wrap her mind around everything that's happened. Stay tuned!


	117. ASAMI VII

ASAMI

"SO," SUKI SAID, AFTER SWALLOWING A SIP OF WINE, "HAVE YOU HAD THE CHANCE TO THINK ABOUT MY OFFER?"

Asami frowned as she mulled over her friend's words. The change in topic had been sudden, but, to her surprise, Asami didn't find it to be all that surprising. Up until that moment, the two young women had been chattering in high, clear voices, sipping wine, teasing, joking, and right now, Asami was braiding Suki's hair. She kept braiding as she turned things over in her mind, examining her thoughts as carefully as her fingers worked her friend's hair.

The truth was, to be honest, that Asami hadn't thought of much else, since she'd stepped out of the Palace and into the light of day. The sun had hit her, soft and warm, making her feel as if she was glowing inside. For a moment, just one single, solitary speck of dirt in the vast currents of time, she had forgotten about the fact that, for the second time in her life, she was covered in blood. She had killed her second person, no, not killed, _murdered. _She couldn't think of it any other way. That horrid man at the temple, that…it had been an impulsive act, something she hadn't known she was doing until she did it, and when it was over, she hadn't had a single moment's peace to think about it. With Long Feng, though…

She sighed. _I knew what I was going to do. I dropped to my knees, began to work the knife out of my boot, and when he crouched down before me, I drove the blade into his jaw, and snarled like a demon from a fairy tale as I watched the life drain from his eyes. It was murder, plain and simple, no other way to think about it…_

_ Nothing else to call it…_

She looked up, into the back of Suki's head, at the hair in which her fingers were sliding in and out of. The Water Tribe healers who were running around the city itself and the makeshift hospitals that surrounded it had done their work well. Sure, Suki had one leg in a cast, and an arm in a sling, and she was pale and drawn, and when she talked, her voice was always a bit loopy from the painkilling draughts she was on, but for all of that, she was definitely on the mend. Suki was very far from home, unsure if she would ever see it again, but…

_She's still smiling, and she still believes that all of this will end, and for the better._

And in that moment, Asami made up her mind. "As a matter of fact," she said, in that new voice of hers, the voice of a woman grown, the voice that she still didn't quite know what to do with, that seemed so foreign, so strange, and yet, so…so…_so natural_, "I have."

Suki nodded, swallowing another sip of wine. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. And…?"

Asami smiled, and somehow, she knew her friend could feel it. "And…what?"

Suki huffed, and was no doubt rolling her eyes. "What's your decision?"

"Do I have to make it now?" Asami asked, feeling playful, not entirely sure why, given the horrid dream she had suffered through the night before, and the mood it had left her in all morning long. "Is this an offer with an expiration date?"

Suki scoffed. "Don't be absurd. You could take a decade to make up your mind, and if I have anything to say about it, the Order will accept you with open arms."

Somehow, Asami had no doubt that Suki would make it so. "Hmm…it is tempting…will I have to cut my hair?"

"You know…that's a good question. I honestly can't give you an answer right now, though I've gotten used to long hair, and I'm not sure I want to cut it myself, truth be told."

Asami gave the hair in question an admiring look. "It is quite nice. I've become a fan of it."

Suki giggled. "Only because I let you braid it."

"Let me? More like _demand it of me._"

"Heh…fair enough. Still, that doesn't answer the question. Is slightly embarrassed evasiveness a national trait for you people, or is it just you and the Royal Siblings?"

Asami gave the question a moment's worth of serious thought. "You know…you might just be on to something there. But, as for the matter at hand…I'm going to have to say that my answer is yes."

Suki squealed, whirling around so quickly that Asami was nearly hurled across the room by way of her hold on the girl's hair. She threw her arm around Asami, gasping in pain, but not letting that stop her from giving Asami a surprisingly powerful hug. She kissed Asami hard on both cheeks, and her face burst into a beautiful smile. "That is," she said, sounding slightly out of breath, "one of the best things I've heard all year. You'll love it."

Asami had blushed bright red, why, she was not entirely sure, though she was willing to blame her upper-class Fire Nation upbringing. After fumbling for words for a bit, she returned Suki's smile. "I have no doubts about that."

Suki gave a vigorous, happy nod, before her face fell and her smile turned into a sharp frown. "We can't go yet, though."

Asami popped an eyebrow, not at all following. "Of course not." She cast a suspicious eye at the door. "Just how much milk of the poppy do they have you on?"

Suki uttered something that was halfway between a giggle and a huff. "That's actually a very good question…whatever it is, it's helping enormously. But, yeah, _as I was saying, _we can't leave yet."

Asami rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Of course not. I have to be at the duel for Korra. I mean, with you and Sokka laid up, and Toph determined not to leave Sokka's side, one of us has to be there."

Suki's mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin. "Going to stand with the Avatar, eh?"

Asami shook her head, and tried not to glare. "Of course not. I'm going to stand with Korra."

Suki sighed. "You still believe in her?"

Asami didn't have to think for even a second. "Of course I do."

Suki smiled. "Me, too."

_We all do, _Asami thought, as they went back to hair-braiding. _We have to. The world is too broken to be saved by some half-god, half-something-else, descending down from on high._

_ But an eighteen-year-old daughter of illiterate herders from the bottom of the world? __**That **__is something anyone can believe in._

She sighed, and found her gaze drifting up to the ceiling, through the ceiling, to the heavens above. _You hear that, Mai and Ty, and, yes, even you, Torihada Mako. I made my choice, I chose to believe in something._

_ You guys would be proud._

* * *

Asami's journey is almost at an end. At least, her journey of personal growth. She's come a long way, hasn't she? I barely even recognize her. What happened to the sheltered daughter of wealth and privilege who burst into tears over things she didn't understand?

She's gone, that's what happened, buried when Asami discovered her true self. I think that's pretty cool.

As for the end of the last chapter...no, Katara's not preggers. _Yet. _She still has a few more things to do, first, one of them being to help save the world.

Also, last night, the wife and I watched the Agents of SHIELD episode, "Turn, Turn, Turn," and I have to say this: WARD WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO GAH. In less than two minutes, I went from, "Yeah, I'd ship Ward and Skye," to, "Anyone who still does that has some issues they need to work through." *sigh* Damn you, Joss. Just because you gave me Kaylee and Simon, I thought for a moment I could trust you. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER YOUR MONSTER.

Moving on! In the next chapter, awkward things are awkward. Stay tuned!


	118. TOPH VI

TOPH

THE WORST PART OF IT, TOPH WOULD LATER DECIDE, WAS THAT SHE HADN'T KNOWN WHO WAS THERE UNTIL THEY SPOKE. She had been half-asleep, the back of her chair leaned against the wall, her feet propped on the edge of Sokka's bed. Sokka was snoring fit to wake the dead, but Toph was tired, and bored, and she had punched a window through the wall to let the sunlight in and to prove to Old Man Grumps (known to others as _Master Pakku_) that she could do it. It was well into the morning outside, the sun blazing through the rough-hewn hole, right on Toph's face. As a result, the room was pleasantly warm, and she felt like she was wrapped in a soft, fuzzy blanket. Her mind wandered, and then she discovered that her position was surprisingly comfortable, and then her eyelids began to droop, and before long, she was fading in and out of consciousness, drifting along, time losing what little meaning it had previously held for her.

Then she heard the door open, and someone walk in. Muttering something even she didn't understand, she had pressed her bare feet to the floor, stretched out her senses, and found…

_No one she knew. _"Alright," she growled in Guangzhou, shaking her head to clear out the cobwebs, "the fuck are you, and the fuck do you want?" When there was no response, nothing beyond a strange, heavy silence and a soft click as the door drifted closed, she rolled her eyes and tried again in Inuktitut. "If you're another up-jumped Northern asshole, you can fuck right off. Lord Snoozles needs his rest, and I'm sick of dealing with you idiots." Once more, there was no response, just soft, vaguely familiar breathing, and the signals of someone Toph did not know, and maybe never had. "Look," she said, in Putonghua this time, "are you just going to stand there, or am I going to have to try Nihongo next? Seriously, state your business, then fuck off."

Toph expected a lot of things then. She expected one of the nurses' voices, probably one of the young ones who seemed a bit scared of her, since the old battleaxe one who was in charge of Sokka's care would've just told her to fuck off her own self, or maybe, if Toph was lucky, it really _was _one of those Northern bootlickers, here to see the young woman who had made so many of their number run from the room in tears.

What she didn't expect was for the stranger in the room to say, in a voice that was both intimately familiar and painfully foreign, "Good morning, Lady Bei Fong. I trust you are well?"

Toph didn't burst into tears. She didn't fall to her knees and beg for the young woman before her to take her back. She didn't grovel and she didn't collapse into hysterics or dramatics or theatrics or some strange combination of all of the above.

She didn't think about doing any of that, either. No, she did not, and she would happily cave in the skull of anyone who tried to say otherwise.

She was Toph Bei Fong. That was all there was to it.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and puffing a lock of hair from her eyes. "Morning yourself, Lady Avatar. The fuck can I do for you today?"

Toph propped her feet back on Sokka's bed, and purposely cut off even the slightest of sensations, ignored anything that she could have read. She didn't want it, didn't need it. It might hurt, after all, and she would be damned if she was going to be hurt anymore.

If the Avatar noticed any of this, they gave not the slightest sign. "I came to check on Sokka, of course. How is he?"

_Is that you, Korra, that I hear hiding in that voice? Are you there?_

_ Or have I lost you, too? Because that's really the last fucking thing I need right now._

She said none of that, though, settling for, "He's been beat to hell, but he's alive."

Somehow, she knew that the Avatar was nodding, and that their face was blank, dead, emotionless. "I see. Does he ever wake up?"

Toph scoffed. "_Duh. _Like Lord Snoozles would let something like having half the bones in his fucking body broken stop him from getting something to eat."

"I see. _Lord Snoozles?"_

Toph shrugged, pulling a cigarette from the box Old Man Grumps had brought for Sokka and lighting it from the candle burning on the nightstand. "Well, he is a lord right now. Makes me hope he keeps on napping, really; he's going to be gods-damn _insufferable._"

"So, he has heard the news?"

"Meh, I think? When he's awake, he basically just stuffs his mouth, burps, farts, then goes right back to sleep. He's probably too busy having fuck dreams about Princess Bitch to think about anything we try to tell him."

There was a pause, and when the Avatar spoke again, they were curt and cold. "This really is a serious matter. I would appreciate it if he would accept."

_And I would appreciate it if you would snap the fuck out of it, but, hey, look Mom always said: Wish in one hand and shit in other, see which one fills up first. _"That's nice. Are you done?"

Another pause, and then, "Would you like me to be?"

_No, I wouldn't. I'd like you to come back to me. I'd like to not lose you, too._

_ I'd like to tell you that I love you._

_ I'd like for you to say it back._

"Yeah," she said, blowing out a big puff of smoke and filling her voice with a flippancy she did not in the least bit feel, "I think that would be great."

"As you wish. Will you come to witness me end the Fire Lord?"

That caught Toph off guard. What with everything that had happened, she had, quite honestly, forgotten all about it. "The fuck would I do that for?" she asked, shocking even herself.

"Because it will be a moment of great history," the Avatar said, matter-of-factly. And then, in a moment that sent Toph's heart into a backwards flip in her chest, the Avatar's voice shifted. It changed, dropped, and for a split second, Toph knew the person who was standing there.

"Besides, it will be a good show, and I'd really like you to be there."

In that sliver of time, the only thing Toph wanted to do was leap to her feet, grab the Avatar's face, and plant thereupon the biggest kiss anyone ever gave anyone in all of human history. She wanted to kiss the Avatar, long and hard and deep, and do all kinds of other things that would make a grizzled hooker blush like a virgin bride on her wedding night.

_Is that…is that…_

_ Is that you, Korra?_

_ Are you really there?_

She realized with a shock that she had been staring, mouth open, eyes wide. Giving herself a shake, she turned away, so that her face looked directly into the warm light beaming from her window. "Who's asking?" she said, trying desperately to keep the quiver from her voice. "Korra, or the Avatar?"

The moment stretched out, like fabric pulled over the edge of a knife, as Toph's heart got all warm and fuzzy and she didn't even bother to stop it.

Then, the Avatar spoke, and ruined it.

"Is there a difference? I was not aware."

Toph didn't cry, didn't even think about it, and fuck anyone who said otherwise.

"Of course you aren't. Now, do us all a favor and fuck off."

To the Avatar's credit, they did just that.

Toph still didn't cry. After all, she was Toph Bei Fong, and her mother had not raised some weepy little _girl._

_ And besides, _she thought, as she stubbed out her cigarette and got a fresh one going, _I'm pretty sure that, like my fucks, I'm all out of tears to give._

At least, that's what she told herself.

* * *

See? Awkward things are awkward.

Not much to say about that. Just me, pulling on the good ole' heartstrings, because I'm terrible.

Oh, and Pudding Dragon: If I read you right, yes, what you're thinking is totally right. But I'm not going to spell it out. That's Ty Lee's business, that and the business of her closest friends, and that's where it should stay. I doubt she'd like something like that broadcast for all the world to see.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Kiyoshiro thinks about his life, and wonders where it all went wrong. Stay tuned!


	119. THE CONFIDANTE IV

THE CONFIDANTE

KIYOSHIRO SAT ON A STOOL, PUFFING HIS PIPE, STARING AT HIS OLD ARMY FOOTLOCKER, THINKING ABOUT HIS WIFE.

He still remembered the first time he had seen her. He closed his eyes, and the years fell away. He was an eighteen-year-old boy once more, fresh from the Academy, the stiff, high collar of his brand-new lieutenant's dress uniform biting into his neck. He was sweating wine from every pour, wine he quaffed by the gallon in a desperate attempt to drink away his insecurities. He was in the main ballroom of the Palace, not ten minutes' walk from where he sat in the present day. All around him, the party to celebrate Crown Prince Iroh's graduation at the top of his class was in full swing. Officers dripping with gold braid paraded about, heads held high, hob-knobbing with their high born relatives. Civilians were draped in silken robes of the kind his own father aspired to, and high born ladies in exquisite make-up pranced and giggled and gossiped in little knots and whorls. The dance floor was packed, couples swirling around, heads thrown back in laughter, the beaming Crown Prince in their midst. The music was loud and brash, His Majesty Fire Lord Azulon for once bowing to his eldest son's preferences and allowing his court to have some fun.

And off in his corner, propping up a wall, trying to disappear, was Imawano Kiyoshiro, born so far down the ladder of nobility that he was only one step above a commoner, and a small one at that. He stood there, eyes fixed on the wine swirling like blood in his glass. His friend the Crown Prince kept trying to get him out on the dance floor, but Kiyoshiro stood his ground. He was a terrible dancer, his family had been unable to afford a proper tutor, and who would dance with him? Sure, he had been second in the class, was a personal friend of the Crown Prince, was here as the Crown Prince's personal guest, but…but…

_I'm still me._

That was where she found him. He smiled at the memory. _Her name was Sayuri, youngest daughter of Lord Shimazu, scion of one of the Twenty-Four Great Clans, as rich as her lineage was illustrious. She was tall and proud, walking with a grace other girls aspired to. She was promised to one of the sons of Lord Satake, head of yet another of the Twenty-Four Great Clans, as far out of my reach as the Scarlet Throne itself._

He settled further into his chair, and let his mind drift in the sea of time.

_She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She came up to me, smiled at me, talked to me. I talked back, even though every word was forced through a nervous stammer. I couldn't look her in the eye, couldn't stop blushing. She laughed at my jokes, and I kept laughing at hers. I kept swallowing, trying to get moisture into my throat. We talked for an hour, there in that corner. My glass went empty, and I didn't even notice._

_ When she said the song that had just started was one of her favorites, I asked her to dance, and forgot all about being afraid. I asked if I could write to her, when I was in the field, and she blushed as red as her dress and said that she would like that very much._

_ A year later, she wrote that she had exercised her right as a high-born lady and vetoed her marriage arrangements. She said it was a scandal, but she didn't care. The only man she wanted was me. It was Iroh who smoothed it all over, Iroh who made it all work. My friend His Royal Highness the Crown Prince, who fought beside me in the dirt and the mud of the Earth Kingdom, had our wedding officiated by the Lord High Fire Sage himself, right there in the Palace._

Kiyoshiro opened his eyes. Somehow, he didn't remember doing it, but it had happened, the footlocker was open, the dragon-skin scroll was in his hands. He ran his thumb over the Royal Seal, traced the outlines of the snarling dragon of the Tokugawa dynasty with his fingertips. The scroll was smooth as silk, and felt very heavy, for all that it was a single simple piece of paper, rolled up tight.

He sighed, and very much wanted to cry. He hadn't cried since his wife, his Sayuri, had died, carried away by a chill after giving birth to a stillborn son, not since they told him that his only living child, his son, had fallen in the act of saving his unit from an ambush.

_Both days, the Fire Lord, my friend, cried with me._

He shook his head. Somewhere in the Palace, the current Crown Prince slowly, carefully, drank himself to death. Out in a quiet Miyako, groaning under martial law, General Matsuura schemed and plotted and teetered ever closer to madness. To the south, on the Royal Road, the children of the Lady Ursa marched north, coming to exact their lady mother's vengeance. To the east, his best friend risked all against the Avatar themselves.

_And here, in my room, I sit, with the scroll that could end it all._

_ My best friend's last throw of the dice._

And so it was, that the Fire Lord's closest friend, his royal confidante, sat, for how long, he didn't know, and didn't care. He sat, the scroll in one hand, his pipe in the other, alone, feeling very old, and very cold, and wondered where it had all gone so wrong.

* * *

Oh, Kiyoshiro. Talk about a guy who's always tried to do the right thing, especially when it comes to his oldest and closest friend. It never pays to be friends to a king, does it?

Also, how did Sayuri get out of her marriage arrangements? Because, while it wasn't common in any class-based, semi-feudal society, it did happen, especially amongst the highest-born. A high-born son or daughter could veto their set-up, though it often caused a huge scandal, and was very rare.

Though, in Sayuri's case, it helped that the guy she wanted was personal friends with the future Fire Lord. That tends to smooth over a lot of problems.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we march, and find out what Katara said. Stay tuned!


	120. THE MARCH

THE MARCH

AT DAWN ON THE SECOND SUNRISE AFTER THE BATTLE BY THE SEA, THEY MARCHED. Sixty-thousand-strong, they marched, half mutineers from across the seas, half mutineers from right here at home. A ragged fleet of ships shadowed them along the shoreline, while a scattering of airships and war balloons inched across the sky above. They marched, serried rank upon serried rank, scarlet-and-black-and-gold, spear-points glittering in the rising sun. They marched beneath their banners, their flags of revolution snapping in a breeze as hot as the noonday sun. They marched in silence, singing no songs, sharing no jokes, the only sound the rattle of their armor and the tramp of their feet. Dust hung thick and heavy in the air, threaded with the black smoke belched forth from their tanks.

They marched towards their destiny, white bands wrapped tight around their arms, faces set, determined to make an end of it.

Determined to march to the Palace itself, and tell the distant lords upon their silken cushions two words:

_No more._

At their head, mounted on komodo-rhinos, rode three people, two young women, one young man, two Fire Nation, one Water Tribe. The Fire Nation braced the Water Tribe, riding so that the Water Tribe's mount led their own by a head.

The young man's name was Zuko, and he rode with his teeth ground together, blinking in pain with every step of his mount, his leg in a cast, his arm in a sling, but dressed in full armor all the same. He rode to the left of his wife, so that she was never out of sight of his good eye. He rode tall and straight, no matter how much it hurt, his heart bursting with pride. His wife hadn't even protested when he mounted up beside her. She had just leaned over from her own saddle and kissed him full on the mouth, to the raucous cheers of their army.

To the right of the Water Tribe rode the other half of the Fire Nation leading the army, a young woman named Azula. Her eyes blazed like twin suns, full of righteous fury, of iron-hard determination, her face set in stone. Before her, just a day-and-a-half's march down this very road, the road laid out by her own ancestor, Fire Lord Ieyasu, lay her chance for vengeance, her chance to settle her debts, to return to her mother and bow before her urn.

To her left, rode her instrument.

For between them, rode the Water Tribe, a young woman, dressed as a Fire Lady, her hair carefully done up, cascading like a waterfall down her back, except for one bent tuft, like a topknot. She rode with her shoulders back, her spine as straight as a board, her chin out, her eyes facing ahead. Her heart trembled and shook, but not from fear. She had no time for fear. She had made her choice. She would show the world a better way, show these people a better way.

She, Katara of the Southern Water Tribes, spiritual mother to the Avatar herself, victor of countless battles, survivor of a crucible that would've crushed someone stronger, stronger but less determined, led the army of the Land of the Rising Sun upon its capital. She rode at its head, the great scarlet-and-black-and-gold snake stretching out behind her, eyes ahead, towards Miyako, where she would seize a throne she could not sit upon, and send a message that none could miss.

Those who were afraid of a new, uncharted future had demanded a crown, and a crown she had given them, a crown that they would have no choice but to take away, when all was said and done. A crown that, for her to wear, the required changes would render meaningless.

A crown that she wore in her hair, flashing like fire in the sun.

They marched.

* * *

What did Katara say? Simple: _Why don't I wear it? _It's the perfect compromise. Those who aren't quite ready to overthrow the monarchy have a crown to march behind, at least for the nonce, and those who are more than ready for that step will get the message, the message being, _The only one of us who will wear this crown is also the only one who can't. I'll wear a crown, to make people feel more at ease, but I'm only wearing it to take it off. _Plus, it avoids making this little semi-coup look like just one more Fire Nation civil war, and that's the _last _thing the rebels need right now, and which would be what it would look like if Zuko or Azula wore it.

It's quite a brilliant move, really, when you think about it. That's why Azula was shocked, partly because it was brilliant, and mostly because she was stunned she didn't think of it herself.

Also, remember that long chapter in Book One, where Zuko gives a little history lesson, and I told you guys to pay attention, because it wasn't just filler? _Booyah!_

Moving on! In the next chapter, Sokka walks upon the moon. Stay tuned!


	121. SOKKA VIII

SOKKA

IN THE DREAM, SOKKA WAS ON THE MOON. How he knew this, he could not begin to say, and even by the logic of a dream, it made no sense. It was the moon, though; there was no mistaking that. It was quiet as death, still as a tomb. His breath hung in thick clouds, billowing up from his mouth. He shivered. He was dressed in his people's warmest furs, and yet it was mind-shatteringly cold.

He walked, his footsteps echoing as if he was striding down an empty hall in the dead of night. How long he had been walking, he didn't know, and couldn't begin to guess. It was as much of a mystery as his destination. He knew his destination was important, that he had to get there soon, but he couldn't begin to put into words why that was so, or how he knew it. It was just _one of those things, _and thus, he walked, over the plains and craters and hills and valleys of the moon, the stars sparkling over his head.

Every once in a while, he would find himself wondering if it really was a dream. It all seemed so real. He felt as if he really _was_ on the moon, the Earth floating upon the horizon, a beautiful half-sphere, its vastness boggling his mind. Everything was detailed, in a way his dreams had never been. It made no sense, for this to be a dream.

He frowned, stretching out his left arm, opening and closing his left hand. He didn't spend much time in the waking world, but he was there often enough to know that this hand no longer existed, that his left arm now ended in a stub just above what had once been his elbow. He knew this, and yet, his hand was there. He could hear the bones cracking, feel the blood pulsing through the veins, bones that were lost to him, veins that no longer existed. His left hand was gone, his left hand and most of the arm that it had been attached to, and yet…

He gave a snort, half of derision, half of confusion. _And yet, here it is. _He shoved the hand back in his pocket, let a violent shiver ripple up and down his spine. _And here I am._

He sighed. _Wherever the fuck that is._

He walked.

He found her not long after that. _Or, at least, I think so. _Time made no sense, had lost all meaning. _Or maybe she found me? _He couldn't be sure. One moment, he was alone, more alone than he had ever been, and then he stopped, blinked, and there she was. He couldn't help but smile, in spite of his confusion, in spite of the faint ice-cold fear that brushed its fingertips against his heart. He had to smile, because there she was, as beautiful as she had been in life, more so, somehow, though he would never have thought that possible.

He smiled, and suddenly, he didn't feel so cold anymore.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Her back had been to him, but she turned, her snow-white hair floating like a massive halo about her head. She turned, and her face lit up, her face and her eyes and her entire _being. _She giggled, and the sound was like the ringing of chimes, tinkling in a delicate breeze on a warm summer's evening.

"I should say the same of you," she said, her voice vibrating around the edges, ethereal and strange, but no less lovely for being so. "After all, this is my place, not yours."

He nodded, casting his face into his best _Sokka Look of Bemusement. _"Fair enough, though, to be honest, that never stopped me before, now, did it?"

She rolled her eyes, her ghostly white earrings jangling as she shook her head. "If I remember correctly, I was the one who pulled you through my window."

He scoffed. "_Excuse me? _Last I remembered, _I _was the one who climbed all the way up there."

"At my invitation."

"Oh, so _that's _what it was? Because I'm pretty sure it was _my _idea."

"You keep telling yourself that, dear heart." She sighed, happily, and his heart swelled up until it felt like it would burst. "It's good to see you, Sokka."

All he wanted to do was throw his arms around her and hold her tight, and maybe bawl like a little boy. He wouldn't kiss her; it just wouldn't be right. _But cry like a baby? That seems appropriate. _He was still himself, though, which was why he threw her another of his famous grins and said, "It's good to see you, too, Yue. It's been too long."

Her shoulders fell, though her smile remained, her smile and the light in her eyes, the light like the moon hanging in a cloudless night sky. "It has…how are you doing?"

He shrugged, as nonchalantly as he could. "Well, I got the ever-living shit beat out of me by the Chancellor of Ba Sing Se, but we got him, so, you know, there's _that. _Sure, I would've _liked _to have kept my arm, but hey, you can't make an omelet without a few life-threatening injuries."

"At least," she said, giving him her own _look, _"not when you're the one making the omelet."

"Hey, and my sister wonders why I don't cook. I keep telling her, humanity would never survive the experience, but does she listen to me? _No._"

"Like she ever did?"

He scoffed. "And thank the gods she doesn't. Gods only know where I'd be if I was the one in charge."

"I dunno," she said, her gaze for a moment very far away, "you seem to have done a pretty good job."

"So long as you don't count the missing limb, and the fact that Asami was the one who took Long Feng out."

"And who would?"

"See?" he said, chuckling. "This is why we were friends."

She popped an eyebrow. "Just _friends?_"

"Hey," he pointed out, "I wasn't the one with a betrothal necklace around my neck."

She nodded, her expression wistful. "That's true…you know, right before the battle, I'd made up my mind to ask Father to break the marriage contract."

_That _floored him, which was silly. _I mean, come on, I'm dreaming of meeting my dead ex-girlfriend on the fucking __**moon, **__and __**that's **__if we assume that it's actually a freaking __**dream. **_"You did…?"

She smiled, and sighed. "I did. Would you have agreed to it?"

He didn't even have to think about it. "Of course I would have. I loved you. In some ways, I always will."

"And your new princess?" she asked, her voice kind, the smile still bright and clear in her eyes. "Do you love her, too?"

He could only shrug, because it was the truth. "Honestly? I'm not sure yet. We'll have to end the war first, and then actually, you know, have a _date _or something. Do you…are you angry?"

She rolled her eyes, in a way that was frighteningly reminiscent of his sister. "And you give that high-born husband of Katara's crap for being an idiot."

"Hey, takes one to know one."

"True…still…of _course _I'm not angry. I want you to be happy, Sokka, not live the rest of your life moping about from place to place. Plus, it's quite the ego boost to know that your next girlfriend after me was a princess, too. I like to think that I ruined anyone less than that for you."

"Heh…maybe so…though…do gods have egos? I mean, you _are _a god now, right?"

"This one does."

"Oh, Yue…always marching to the beat of your own drum…"

"Only after you and Katara showed me how."

He pondered that. "You know, I'm not sure I should take credit for that, but I totally will." He pursed his lips in thought. Another shiver ran through him, and he suddenly remembered how cold it was. "That said…look, it's lovely to see you again, it really is, we should totally do this again sometime, maybe somewhere warmer, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. Still…"

She nodded, and finished for him. "You're wondering why you're here."

"Heh…yeah, pretty much. I mean, yeah, it's my dream, but that doesn't mean it's not real, you know?"

"Very true. The thing is, you're here because you need to wake up. You need to wake up, and tell that Toph girl something very important."

"Ah…any clue as to what I'm going to say?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"Well, yeah, either that or I'll make it up, but still, you know, it'd be nice to have a _hint._"

She winked. "Like you ever needed one of those." She blew him a kiss, a kiss that he caught, like the dope that he was. "Goodbye, my love. Live your life, and don't forget to tell Toph."

He put the kiss in his pocket, because, hey, one kiss from a goddess was great, but two were even better. "Got it."

Then she snapped her fingers, and he woke up.

He knew right away that he wouldn't have much time. His stomach lurched, and the world spun around his head, stars exploding in the shrouded edges of his vision. Everything was blurry, indistinct, and some asshole somewhere kept tipping the floor back-and-forth. _Probably Lobsang, entertaining some kids. I bet it's all sweet and cuddly and heartwarming, too._

He reached out into the darkness, or, at least, what _looked _like darkness, he couldn't be sure. He knew exactly what he had to say, though how he knew that, he hadn't the faintest clue. He reached out, grabbed Toph by the elbow, gave her a violent shake. She yelped and blistered the air with some incredibly inventive obscenities, before putting a hand to her chest and letting out a pent-up sigh. "For fuck's sake, Sokka," she grumbled, shooting him a dirty look, "can't a girl get some gods-damn sleep?"

He smiled, and chuckled. It was a raspy sound that probably sounded as painful as it felt, but he didn't care. He was awake, and he had to make the time he had count. "_Now,_" he croaked, _"you know what it's like to share a camp with you."_

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Fair enough. Still, what gives, Lord Snoozles?"

He frowned. _"What, I'm a lord now? Since when?"_

She responded to that with another scoff. "I'm _so _not having that conversation with you again. Stay awake a bit longer, and I'll drag Asami in here to do it. It's somebody else's turn in the fucking barrel."

He waved the suggestion aside, a movement that basically consisted of him flopping his remaining hand about like it was a dead fish. _"Yeah, whatever, don't worry about that. Has Korra faced Azula and Zuko's uncle yet?"_

Her face fell, the shadows on her face growing black as pitch and long as spears. "What, you mean the Avatar? No, she faces him tomorrow, at high noon." She gave a derisive snort, twisting her mouth into a savage grimace. "Like some kind of fucking hero out of legend, come to save us all."

He wanted to comfort her, to commiserate with her, but hadn't the time. He had something he had to do, something Yue had asked of him, though how he actually understood what it was, was anyone's guess. _"Yeah, like I said, __**whatever. **__You're not going to sit it out in here, are you?"_

Toph shrugged, turning to the nightstand to light herself a cigarette from the room's lone candle. "Why the fuck shouldn't I? That's not Korra."

He breathed deep, gathering all of his rapidly fading strength. _Don't pass out yet, keep it together, come on, Sokka, you got this. "That's the thing: __**Yes, it is.**__ She's…she's doing something, don't ask me what, I don't really understand anything, much less how I know it, but it's…it's important, and…she needs you there."_

Toph just shook her head, concentrating very hard on her cigarette. "The fuck does she need me there for?"

He rolled his eyes. _And they call me and Zuko idiots… "Because, she's in love with you, and you're in love with her. Tomorrow, at noon, she's going to do something insanely dangerous, and the only one who can get her through it is you."_

Toph looked away. Not for the first time, he wondered what it was that she saw, in her private little world. "Isn't that, like, an abomination back where you're from?"

He rolled his eyes, which was a far more difficult maneuver than it should've been. _I'm fading fast; better close strong. "Fuck all of that. It's a new world. I've romanced two princesses, Suki's violated every law of her order, my sister married a prince, which, to be fair, isn't that much of a stretch, but still, all of that's happened, and, tomorrow, the most important person in the world might well be a petite little eighteen-year-old blind girl."_

Toph nodded, slow, unsure, and when she spoke, her voice was small, barely more than a whisper. "You…you really think she's in there?"

He reached out, took her hand in his own. _"I __**know **__she's in there. I __**believe **__she's in there. I'm not asking you to believe in the Avatar; just believe in __**her.**__"_

She threw him a smile, a smile he hadn't seen in far too long. "Like I ever stopped."

He chuckled, which hurt, but was worth the pain. _"Of course not; you just needed your genius big brother to remind you."_

She scoffed. "Since when were you a genius?"

He smiled. _"Since when was it official that I was your big brother?"_

She rolled her eyes, and gave his hand a squeeze. "Since, like, _always. _Now, go ahead and pass back out; I've got things to do."

His job done, he gladly followed her orders, drifting off into a quiet, dreamless sleep.

* * *

This chapter is, quite possibly, one of my favorite things that I've ever written. It just works beautifully, and I like it.

Also, leave it to Sokka to be a good big bro, and to Toph to end up being the one to save the day. One of the criticisms of _A Different Path _and, to some extent, _Wild, Wild Love, _is that, both being first-person and Zuko-centric, I didn't give everyone else enough to do. I hope that, in this fic, I've fixed that. I'm really happy with how it's turned out.

Speaking of which...as of yesterday afternoon, Book Three and, by extension, _Romance of the Four Nations, _is officially _completed. _I'm still reeling. I'm just, _so excited _you guys. It's amazing. I'm more proud of this than I've ever been proud of anything I've written. It came together beautifully and I'm experiencing all the feels and I can't wait to share those feels with you.

Well, that's all for today! The wife and I are headed out for El Paso and a wedding in an hour or so, so I gotta hope in the shower, finish packing, make her her coffee, and get on the road. I'm super stoked, and super excited, but also, anyone know anything cool to do in El Paso? Besides what me and my wife already have planned, of course. I'm basically treating this like a _post finished book vacation, _and I intend for the love of my life and I to have some most excellent fun.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Iroh has a drink. Stay tuned!


	122. THE FIRE LORD VI

THE FIRE LORD

THE NIGHT HUNG HOT AND HUMID UPON HIS SKIN, AND THE SKY WAS FILLED WITH STARS. There were reports of storm clouds looming to the south, racing north towards Ba Sing Se, but for now, all was quiet, calm, still. Even the normal din of an army at night seemed muted by the weight of the coming dawn.

_Tomorrow. _He sat in the midst of his army, sunk deep into his old campaign chair, staring off towards the northwest. Across the litter-strewn battlefield (_the corpses had long since been cleared away_), on that other ridge, the ridge he had failed to take, campfires twinkled like a horde of fireflies, and beyond, Ba Sing Se glowed. _So close, and yet so far away. Will I ever see you again, greatest of all cities? Is this my punishment for daring to humble so great a thing?_

He frowned at his thoughts. _So dark, so dreary. Must I really be such an old fart, on this of all nights? No, I think not. _Instead, he veered his mind onto a new track. He drifted, lost in a strange fantasy. He saw himself as a jolly old man. He ran a tea house, the _Jasmine Dragon, _he decided in an instant to call it. He spent his time laughing with customers, while his nephew worked the kitchen and his niece worked the hostess stand. His daughters worked as waitresses, and his son slaved away in the back, working over the books, doing all the work his elderly father didn't want to do, as a good son should. Iroh watched, watched his wife come in to give him and their children something home-cooked to eat, and Ursa popped her head out of the kitchen, where she worked with her son. A strange-looking, dark-skinned young woman came in, very similar to what the rumors held her appearance to be, and he laughed and hugged her and told her that her husband, his nephew, was in the back, working too hard, as usual.

He sighed, and smiled. _It would be wonderful, wouldn't it? To never have been born a Tokugawa. But what would my family name be? _He allowed himself a long time to ponder that, finding nothing that suited. After much careful deliberation, he decided on _Tazaki, _because he liked the way it rolled off his tongue, and also because its lack of color amused him. _A nice, good, solid name, perfect, really. And my son…I would name him Tsukuru, I think, __**to build, **__much better than __**Yoshihito, **__that was my father's choice, anyways._

Just as he came to this decision, his attention was caught by a cleared throat. He turned, and found his second-in-command, General Ikeda, standing before him. Iroh smiled, very happy to see the man, to have it confirmed once more that the old general had survived the battle. "Good evening, General," he said, bowing his head. "Is it not a beautiful night?"

Ikeda looked up at the sky, nodding appreciatively. "You know what, Your Majesty? It really is."

Iroh sighed, lacing together his fingers and resting his hands on his stomach. "You know, if my dynasty ends tomorrow, the idea that this was its last night would make me feel great peace."

Ikeda, it seemed, could only nod some more. "You know what, Your Majesty? You may be on to something there." There was a pause, and then Ikeda had turned to him once more, holding out a bottle of fire whiskey and two glasses. "Actually, with that in mind…I was wondering if Your Majesty would be so kind as to honor me with a few drinks."

Iroh hadn't drunk fire whiskey in years, but that didn't mean he had to think about his answer. "I would be the one who would be honored, General, but on one condition."

Ikeda smiled. "Anything, Your Majesty."

"That you stop calling me _Your Majesty, _and instead call me _Iroh._"

Ikeda chuckled, ducking into Iroh's tent to pull out a chair, a chair he soon settled himself into with a happy sigh. "In that case, _Iroh, _it would only be fair if you called me _Kei._"

Iroh rolled the name around in his mouth. "That is your name, isn't it, Kei?"

Kei laughed as he cracked open the bottle and poured two glasses. "It is indeed, Iroh." He began to hand Iroh his glass, but Iroh stopped him with a jabbed finger and a frown.

"Two fingers each? Really, Kei? I thought we were soldiers."

Kei rolled his eyes. "We are indeed, Iroh." And with that, he filled both glasses halfway, and only then did Iroh take his drink. Iroh was savoring his first sip, when he caught a whiff of smoke, and turned to find Kei lighting up a cigarette. Iroh felt a sudden pang for his youth, and pointed. "Mind if I have one?" he asked.

Kei immediately proffered the pack. "Of course not. Help yourself."

Iroh did.

It was, quite possibly, one of the finest nights of his life.

* * *

Good morning, everyone! We're back, and getting right into the meat of things! Woo!

As for my weekend...it _rocked. _Like, seriously, it did. El Paso was wonderful; the wife and I _loved it. _For one thing, as a Latina, my wife really enjoyed being in the majority for a change; she felt right at home. We hit a Mexican supermarket the first night, loaded up on _pan frances _and _pan dulce _(look it up), got a case of Mexican beer, and sat on our Hotel balcony drinking, eating, laughing, and watching the lights of Juarez twinkle in the night. The next day, we enjoyed the city, almost missed the wedding (which was quite nice), and because wedding food _blows, _went out and got the best _tacos _(and I'm talking about _tacos, _not "tah-cohs", which is what you get at Taco Bell) I've ever had this side of the border. It was just _the best, _you guys. We totally want to move there now.

But, as for the story, well...one of the themes of this story is _being who you really are, not what your title is. _That's what Iroh's doing; the end is in sight, and he's going to face it with his head held high, remembering that, before he was a prince, before he was a Fire Lord, his name was _Iroh. _

Also, what's with the _Tazaki _and _Tsukuru _business? It's all a reference to the great book by the incredible Haruki Murakami, the book being _Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage. Tazaki _is a Japanese name without a color in it, and _Tsukuru _really does mean _to build. _Cool, huh?

Moving on! In the next chapter, Zuko sees Miyako for the first time in a long time. Stay tuned!


	123. ZUKO VII

ZUKO

WITH THE DAWN, THEY FOLLOWED THE ROAD UP INTO THE MOUNTAINS. The road was wide and flat, of the finest construction, a proud work of Fire Nation engineering. It went up and up, slicing through a shallow valley where two mountains stretched out their arms to meet. To either side were trees, whispering in the warm, gentle breeze. There was an incredible silence laying deep and heavy on the land, the only people present the soldiers at their backs and frightened eyes peering forth from shuttered windows. On and on they climbed, until, finally, they reached the crest, and there it was.

_Miyako, _Zuko thought. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. His heart stopped, clawing its way up into a throat that felt hot, scratchy, closed. Everything shimmered, as if in a dream, and his mouth went dry, and his good eye began to burn with the tears he had refused to shed when he had been cast out. He blinked, over and over again, but still the pain would not go away.

Then a random cloud passed from beneath the sun, and the city lit up so bright and gold that, for a moment, he was blind as a badger-mole.

And still, he could not look away.

_Miyako. _He sighed, shaking his head, as if that would make the incipient tears go away.

_Home._

_ I never thought I'd see it again. I thought it was lost to me, until the day I returned in a ceramic urn, little more than a portrait hung on my mother's wall._

But he _was _there, he _was _home. He was home, with his wife and his sister, home in a way he would never have dared dream. He looked up at the sky. The day was hot, the sun blazing forth from high in the heavens, but he powered through the sting and glare and looked past the thin, wispy clouds that crawled across that endless bright blue bowl.

_Do you see, Toru? Mai, Ty, Mother, do you see? We made it._

He looked away, reached out and took Katara's hand, a hand that met him halfway, because she was already reaching for him. He looked at her, at all of her. Even now, dressed in foreign robes and with a glittering crown in her hair, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, ever dared to even imagine. _And she loves me. I can't imagine why, but I no longer care._

_ She loves me, because she wants to, and she never wants to live without me, not because she couldn't, but because she'd really rather not._

And then, she smiled, and spoke, and not for the first time, he found himself wondering if she could read his mind.

"You know," she said, her deep blue eyes swallowing the light of the sun, "you really are, just, the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life." Her mouth quirked up into a lopsided grin, and she giggled. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

He chuckled, fighting against the blush creeping up his neck, and decided to channel his brother-in-law, for whose safety he prayed every night, no matter how little faith Tokugawa Zuko put in the gods. "Something terrible, no doubt."

Katara rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous. I love you."

He leaned over, raised her hand to his lips, graced it with a soft kiss, like some noble _samurai _out of his childhood picture books. "I love you, too."

From Katara's other side came a scoff, and he had no doubt it was accompanied by a roll of the eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake, you two," Azula grumbled. "Here we are, on the eve of the most momentous day in Fire Nation history, and you two can't stop undressing each with your eyes."

"I don't know," came the voice of Colonel Kotaro from behind, and Zuko looked back to catch his old C/O looking his most rakish, "I find it rather endearing. Makes me wonder why I never took a wife."

Beside him, General Hattori, looking as gruff and bear-like as ever, barked, his version of a laugh. "Probably because you could never make up your mind. As soon as you met one woman, you'd want to meet her sisters, too."

Colonel Kotaro emitted something perilously close to a _guffaw _in response. "Well, in my defense, with so many beautiful women in the world, how could I choose just one?"

"Captain Tokugawa seems to have managed it," General Hattori snarked back, unknowingly filling Zuko's heart with unbridled joy. _Finally, they've stopped calling me a prince. Finally, after all this time, I'm just a man._

_ Just a man, a husband, maybe someday a father._

_ I'm just __**me.**_

Meanwhile, Colonel Kotaro was slapping his knee with glee. "Well, _naturally. _Captain Tokugawa is, as I've always said, an officer and a gentleman. Speaking of which...Lady Katara?"

"Yes, Colonel?" Katara replied, giving Zuko's hand a tight squeeze and shooting him a look that sent incredibly pleasant shivers up his spine.

"Have you ever considered being an officer's wife?"

Katara mulled it over for a moment, while Zuko felt suddenly strange and nervous. Out of all the things they had ever talked about, this was one subject they had somehow missed. He wasn't sure why; maybe he just never dared to imagine that this would all someday _end. Or maybe, _he pondered, _I just wasn't able to picture her as anything but her, much less an officer's wife._

But then, as she so often did, Katara surprised him. "Well…is it true, Colonel, what I hear? That, in a peacetime army, true power rests, not in the officers, but in their wives?"

"I know my wife's always outranked _me,_" General Hattori observed, barking all the while.

Colonel Kotaro, meanwhile, smiled and nodded. "As painful as it is for this old soldier to admit, I'm afraid that is very much true."

Katara tapped a finger against her smile. "In that case…I might just have to think about it. First, though," she gave Zuko's hand a final squeeze, and let it go, "I believe we have some business in the city below."

Zuko nodded. His heart fell back into place, and he felt his expression turn grim and dark. "Yes, my dear, I believe we do."

"No sense in waiting then. Azula? What say you?"

Azula laughed, though there was no joy in it. "I say that there are a lot of debts owed to me down there, and that they are long since past due."

Katara gave a final, emphatic nod. "So say we all. General?"

General Hattori perked up, his smile gone, his face all business. "Yes, my lady?"

"Sound the advance."

General Hattori bowed in his saddle. "At once, my lady." He raised his arm, let it drop. The trumpets blew one final, massive note, and the silence that followed was torn to shreds by sixty-thousand throats rendering forth three explosive cheers of _banzai, _so loud that, for an instant, Zuko wondered if they would rip the very heavens apart.

But the heavens stayed in their place, even as the world was turned upside down.

They marched.

* * *

And so, _it begins. _I'm hoping the ending of this story will catch you all a bit off-guard, but that you'll agree with me that it fits perfectly. I know I'm happy with it.

For those playing the home game, General Hattori had a peripheral role in _A Different Path; _he's the guy who surrendered Kagoshima to Zuko and the Gaang when they came back from [_redacted due to spoilers_]. I'm always about the little references for my fans, since I seem to have those now. Also, the bit about how military units, especially in peacetime, when they spend a lot of time in permanent bases, being run by the wives? That's totally true. Seriously, ask anybody who's been in the military for any length of time; my step-dad, who was in the Army, always used to say how he was more afraid of his C/O's wife than he was of his C/O. In his words, _You irritate your C/O, you can be forgiven. Piss of his wife, you're fucked for life._

For those playing the _other _home game, where you read my stories to hit the ANs and see what the wife and I are up to, the awesome taco place in El Paso is called _El Cometa. _Go down I-10, get off around Viscount, follow that a bit, and there it is, with a perpetually empty Taco Bell behind it. Try the tacos, and you'll see why. Oh, and don't worry, they speak English there, though I didn't bother, because, when my wife speaks Spanish? _It's super hot._

Moving on! In the next chapter, Jiro still thinks it's _his _destiny that he's rushing towards. Stay tuned!


	124. JIRO X

JIRO

IN HIS DREAM, JIRO WAS MASTER OF ALL. He was a god, Agni Himself come to earth. The whole world lay at his feet, just as his father had hoped, just as Jiro himself had dreamed. They bowed and they scrapped, all the weak little people, because that was their place, that was their nature. It was in their nature to be ruled, to be told how to get through their miserable little lives quickly and efficiently. In his dream, he never died. He never died, never ate, never drank. He didn't need to; after all, was he not a god, and did gods need to do such petty, wasteful things? _Of course not. _And in the dream, he threw back his head and laughed and laughed, laughed as he put their heads on stakes himself, even Kojima's, because here in this dream, not even Kojima could gainsay him. So he set Kojima's head upon the pike and laughed until he could laugh no more, and then he laughed again and-

Kojima opened his eyes and smiled. _If I were you, my lord, I'd wake up right about now._

Jiro fell back into the waking world, quite literally. He blinked, looked around, grabbed the edge of his desk and hauled himself to his feet. The world swam, and for a brief, terrifying moment, his knees buckled, and his legs turned to water. Then he blinked once more, heard the sound of soft laughter, and latched onto that, pulled himself into reality.

_Soon, _he promised his dreams. _Very, very soon._

_ I'm not beaten yet._

_ It is not in my nature._

"Are you sure about that, my lord?"

Jiro's head snapped up, and, sure enough, there he was, lounging in a chair, dirt-caked boots propped upon the desk, smoking his eternal cigarette. Jiro glared, and only the knowledge that, if he set the man on fire, he himself would have no way of getting out of the cramped little office, stopped him from doing so.

"The fuck do you want?" he snarled.

If Kojima was bothered, he didn't show it. He merely kept right on chuckling, chuckling and smiling and smoking. "Why," he said, in a voice threaded through with unimaginable indifference and vague boredom, "to make sure you were present for the final act, of course. Is that not my duty, my lord? To keep you on the proper path?"

"And a fine job you've done of _that,_" Jiro growled, turning to a mirror so that he could put his topknot back into its proper form.

"Ah," came the reply, "that may be so, but this time, I think you will agree that I acted wisely."

Jiro rolled his eyes at his reflection, not at all bothered by the fact that the reflection looked nothing like him, and wasn't doing anything he thought he was doing. "And what would make you say-"

That's when he heard it. The peal of trumpets shattered the air, and then cheers began, _banzai, _three times, loud enough to wake the gods, and after that…

_Silence…_

Jiro ran to the window, his topknot hanging askew, forgotten. The window faced south, and when he couldn't get it open, he punched it open, heedless of the shards of glass that were now embedded in his knuckles. Blood dribbled down his arm, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he looked, and there, he saw it.

A massive army, coming over the southern mountains, marching in impeccable order down the southern road.

A savage smile creased his face, and he did nothing to stop it. _"Finally," _he whispered, his heart thudding madly in his chest. "They're finally _here." _Then, a thought occurred to him, and his face fell. "But…how did they…when did they start…" He rounded on Kojima, slammed his fists down upon his desk, hard enough to make the floor rattle. _"WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?!"_

Kojima shrugged, and the boredom in his tone was no longer vague. "Well, this is just spit-balling, really, but if I had to hazard a guess, I would say that the Lord Chancellor has, very quietly, cut you from the loop."

Jiro shook his head, his head that hurt, his head that felt light, would not stop spinning, _it hurts, it hurts so much, why won't it stop __**hurting?!**_

"That's impossible," he muttered, his fingers embedded deep in his hair. "My men…they wouldn't…I'm still in command…"

Kojima laughed. "I can't imagine that your men feel enough loyalty to you to argue the Lord Chancellor's suggestion."

That did it. Snarling like nothing human, Jiro snatched his sword-belt off the floor, strapping it on as he stormed out the door. He strode out, bowling right over anyone who was unlucky enough to get in his way.

Somehow, Jiro had stopped thinking about the particulars, Kojima beat him outside. Jiro found the man leaning against a wall, grinning like a loon. "Going somewhere, my lord?"

Jiro laughed. "To my destiny, you imp."

Kojima seemed to find this very amusing, to judge by his expression. "Of course, though…is it your destiny, or someone else's?"

The question was so ludicrous, Jiro couldn't even _begin _to think of an answer. "The hell does that even _mean?"_

"If you have to ask, my lord," Kojima replied, tapping a finger to his nose, "then you won't figure it out until it's far too late."

Jiro just rolled his eyes. "Are you done?"

At this, Kojima threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, I haven't even gotten _started, _my lord. But, if you insist," he continued, inclining his head towards the south, "by all means, be my guest."

And with that, Jiro went. There didn't seem to be anything else to say, and besides, he had a destiny to meet.

* * *

Oh, Jiro; you're the villain who goes down to humiliating defeat, thus showing the foibles and failures of man, and you don't even know it. *shakes head*

Back to that taco place in El Paso, because I really can't go on enough about it, my wife recommends the _tacos al pastor, _and I recommend the _tacos de bistec con queso. _I had to have flour tortillas, because _corn allergy, blah, _but my wife says that the corn tortillas are to die for.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Lobsang tells a story, and makes up an ending. Stay tuned!


	125. LOBSANG V

LOBSANG

IT WAS NEARLY NOON, AND YET, DESPITE THAT, THE SKY WAS DARK AND FOREBODING, HIDDEN BEHIND A THICK SHEET OF CLOUDS. There was a cool, almost unnaturally chill wind blowing out of the south, and it made Lobsang feel as if fingers of ice were walking up his spine. He frowned, tugged his robes tight around him, and tried not to think of omens.

Because, though his people had never set much stock in omens, and he himself set less, he couldn't help but feel as if this sudden midday darkness was one. Just the day before, the sun had been crawling like a snail across the sky, baking the earth, every footfall, no matter how small, sending up a thick clouds of dust. But then the morning had come, a dawn that was no dawn, and he woke to find the world dark and foreboding, the scent of oncoming rain hanging in the air like a sense of doom.

He shuddered, shook such thoughts from his mind. _Omen or not, whether it be for us or the Fire Lord, it matters not one bit. We are here to see a sight that no one living has even dared to imagine. _He frowned. _But to what end, and for whose benefit?_

Lobsang really wished that he knew.

"So, what do you see, Baldie?"

He chuckled, grabbing the lifeline Toph had thrown him and holding on with all of his might. He turned, looked down, at where Toph sat upon the grass, young Asami beside her. "The same thing I saw thirty minutes ago," he said, his words chiding, his voice kind, "the last time you asked me."

It was true. For an hour now they had stood at the front edge of the armies of the four nations, arrayed in a thick band along the ridge that the Fire Lord had failed to take, as far as the eye could see. Across from them was another long line of ridges, crested with a fringe of scarlet-and-black, their opponents. Everything had a bit of a strange, almost surreal air, two massive armies drawn up, but no one armed. Soldiers lounged about, sitting, talking in hushed tones, smoking cigarettes or pipes, everyone mixed up together, even women and children scattered about. Between the two armies lay a wide valley, cleared of corpses but strewn with wreckage, abandoned weapons, shattered tanks.

_And at the front, _he thought, looking back to his companions, _we three sit. We sit, and we watch, and we wait, for what, we cannot even begin to guess._

Meanwhile, Toph, as was her wont, was scoffing. "No shit. If time moves any slower, it's liable to start running backwards."

"Gods forbid," Asami chimed in; they were speaking in Nihongo, so that she could be fully included. "I'd hate to have to go through all of this again." She took a long drag from a cigarette, passed it to Toph, who followed suit. "It was bad enough the first time around, I can't imagine it'd be any better running in reverse."

Toph snorted in derision. "Amen to that." She passed the cigarette back. "So, Baldie, tell us something new."

He pursed his lips in thought, tapping the stem of his pipe against his chin. "Ah, my dear, but what? Surely I've told you everything there is to know about me."

Toph rolled her head from side-to-side, as if chewing on the matter. "Well, did you ever get laid?"

Lobsang laughed; he had to. "Of _course _I have! Why wouldn't I?"

Asami poked a finger into the air, like the good student she was. "Don't you Air Nomad monks and nuns take vows of celibacy when you take your vows?"

Lobsang nodded. "We do…but I wasn't always a monk, and I haven't been one for a long time. And besides," and here, he did nothing to keep the twinkle from his eye, "there's a rather large difference between _taking _a vow of celibacy and actually _living it._ After all, if young Suki found her own vow to be too onerous to follow to the letter, what makes you think I'm any stronger?"

"Because you're old and bald?" Toph offered, rather matter-of-factly, setting off a round of snickers from Asami.

Lobsang chuckled. "You have me there, but, alas, I was not always old, and I was not always bald. Once, I was young, just like you, and I was in love."

Asami's eyes went wide. "What, _you? _Do tell!"

Lobsang shook his head, puffing on his pipe. "Oh, you don't want to hear about all of that."

"We do!" Asami chanted. "We so totally do!"

"I'm with Red-Shirt here," Toph said, crooking a thumb at Asami. "We _totally _want to hear _this _tale."

Lobsang popped an eyebrow. "_Red-Shirt?"_

Asami rolled her eyes. "Because, every time we get in some sort of situation, I end up covered in somebody's blood."

Lobsang frowned. "How…_morbid._"

Asami shrugged. "Hey, better than _Princess Bitch _for Azula, or _Hot Buns _for Suki. Now, do us all a favor, and _spill._"

Toph chimed in, snapping her fingers through air. "And be quick about it."

Lobsang saw no way out of it, so he told them about Tsering. He told them everything, held nothing back. He told them about how beautiful she had been, how he had fallen in love with her the second he laid eyes on her. How Tsering had been of a fiery temperament fit for a child of the Fire Nation, how she had chaffed at the monastic life, the life chosen for her by her parents. How she had begged him to throw off his habit and run off with her, to fight for the freedom of the world, side-by-side, and how he hadn't had to think twice about it, or even once.

He left out the end, though. All stories, if taken far enough, end in death, and he had had enough of that, _thank you very much. _So, he made up a new ending, one that involved a beautiful wedding, happy children running around in circles, a world at peace, and everything else he wished for, deep in his heart of hearts.

Neither of his two young friends objected, or called him out on his obvious lies. He was glad, because they weren't lies. They were, instead, merely his heart's desire.

And so he talked, and told his tale, right up until the Avatar came.

* * *

I really love that we've finally gotten to know Lobsang in this fic. I would love to hang out with him; he's just one of those _truly decent people, _of whom there are far too few in this world.

But enough about that. Moving on! In the next chapter, Kiyoshiro sees something he wasn't expecting, but isn't that surprising, really. Stay tuned!


	126. THE CONFIDANTE V

THE CONFIDANTE

SOMEHOW, KIYOSHIRO WAS NOT THE LEAST BIT SURPRISED TO FIND THE PRINCE WAITING FOR HIM. Nothing seemed capable of surprising him that day-of-days. He had slept not a wink, sitting alone in his room, the scroll in his hands, and yet, when dawn came, bright and early, he had felt not the least bit tired. His hands did not shake as he dressed, and there were no dark circles under his eyes, as there had been for as long as he seemed capable of remembering. None of this surprised him, and even the lack of surprise failed to surprise him.

What _did _surprise him, though, was the state of the empty prince when he walked into the man's room.

For there, standing before him, was a true _prince. _Yoshihito was dressed in his finest robes, his headpiece set upon a perfect topknot, freshly shined and polished. The man stood tall and ramrod straight, shoulders back, chin out, looking every inch the Fire Lord he would never, ever be.

It almost brought tears to Kiyoshiro's eyes, to think of what had had to happen to Yoshihito, to make him a son worthy of his father.

Unable to think of anything else to do, Kiyoshiro bowed, low and deep at the waist. He rose, but kept his head inclined, observing courtesies he had not bothered with, ever since the Fire Lord had thrown the Crown Prince in a cell. He smiled, why, he didn't know, but even this failed to surprise him.

"Your Highness," he said, voice calm and grave, the title rolling off his tongue with incredible ease.

Yoshihito returned the bow, even deeper than the one that Kiyoshiro had rendered to him. "Lord Chancellor," he replied as he rose. "I believe that it is time."

Kiyoshiro nodded. His chest felt hot and tight, and as for his emotions, he could make no sense of them. "It is, Your Highness. The rebels are at the gates, marching behind your cousins."

Yoshihito's face betrayed no emotion, the muscles stirring not even the slightest inch. "I see…have they made any demands?"

"No, Your Highness, though it's obvious that they intend to enter the city."

"Naturally." For a moment, the corner of Yoshihito's mouth twitched, but it was only for a moment, for then it was still. "Well, then we should go out and meet them, should we not?"

Kiyoshiro's heart skipped a beat, why, he couldn't begin to guess. "If that is your will, Your Highness. Should I order the city garrison to resist?"

Silence fell, thick and heavy, like a rock rattling down an empty well.

Yoshihito broke it. "I…honestly, I haven't decided yet. Why don't we head to the southern gate, and see what I come up with?"

Kiyoshiro's heart resumed its regular rhythm, and he bowed once more. "As you will, Your Highness."

Yoshihito nodded. "Indeed. Oh," he continued, as they left the empty prince's rooms, "and while we're at it…please stop calling me that. Father would be very cross if he found out."

"Yes," Kiyoshiro admitted, as they turned a corner and headed for whatever destiny awaited them, "he would, wouldn't he?"

No response was needed, and Yoshihito made none.

For that, Kiyoshiro couldn't help but feel eternally grateful.

* * *

My wife summed up Yoshihito's arc perfectly this weekend: "It's nice that he finally figured shit out, and it sucks what that realization did to him, because only someone evil would enjoy the complete debasement of a human being. That said, I have absolutely no sympathy for him, and he deserves every second of misery he goes through."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

So, normally, I'd stop right there, but...fuck it, let's keep going! You're getting _ten _chapters today, because I have a bit more time on my hands than usual, and the book's done, and I _really want you guys to see it, okay? _So! In the next chapter, there's a procession! Stay tuned!


	127. THE PROCESSION

THE PROCESSION

DOWN THROUGH THE STREETS OF BA SING SE, ALONG A BROAD BOULEVARD, SWEPT CLEAN, THE AVATAR WALKED. They walked down the street, heading east, head held high, hands clasped at their waist. They were dressed in the formal attire of the Southern Water Tribes, clothes of a blue so deep it almost seemed to shine, in spite of the gloom that seemed to be enveloping the world. They had been specially made to order, to the Avatar's exact specifications, and had been delivered that very morning, almost as if the Avatar had planned it so.

All along the route the Avatar walked, the people stood in thick bands of humanity. Nobody seemed to know quite what to do, so everyone did something different. Some fell to their knees, pressed their foreheads to the ground, while others simply bowed, and still others just doffed their caps and dipped their heads. Many more did nothing at all, simply stared, as if unsure if this was but a dream, or it was, indeed, reality. There were even a few, whose motivations only they themselves could explain, who reacted with anger, who turned their backs, or even spat upon the street and walked away.

But no one spoke. There seemed to be nothing to say.

On, the Avatar walked. They walked under the final gate, out and through it, into the world beyond. Citizens gave way to soldiers, to Air Nomads in orange-and-yellow robes, Water Tribesmen in blues-and-whites, Earth Kingdom rebels in mottled greens-and-browns, sons of the Fire Nation in scarlet-and-black-and-gold. None carried weapons, why, they were not entirely sure. It had just seemed…_inappropriate._

If one had asked these men and boys what they meant by that, they would have shrugged, rubbed the backs of their necks, and looked vaguely uncomfortable.

The soldiers said nothing, just like the people. They just stood, snapping to attention as the Avatar passed, following them with their eyes.

And on, the Avatar walked. They walked along a wide road, the air filled with a cloying film of moisture, the branches of the few remaining trees rattling in the wind. The Avatar crested that final, fateful ridge, and the army assembled there parted like the sea in a fairy tale, as if the Avatar was some god, descending from on high to stride across the earth, heedless of any mortals that chanced to get in their way.

Something happened, when the Avatar reached the front of the crowd upon the ridge, something so strange that many would later swear it didn't occur, was merely a figment of overwrought imaginations. But make no mistake, whoever hears the tale, it happened. The Avatar came to the edge, the very cusp of the ridge, the point where it dove down into the valley below, the valley that had been torn asunder not three days before, the valley littered with the detritus of war, riven with gashes and with grass singed black and brown.

The Avatar stopped, as if frozen in a moment of time, and turned, and looked down upon an Earth Kingdom girl. The girl the Avatar faced could not have been more than eighteen-years-old, and many who saw her eyes swore that she was blind, though many more would swear right back that this could not be so.

They stood there, staring at each other, the Avatar and the girl, and then, the Avatar stretched out a hand. The hand reached for the girl, and the girl stood there, and waited, a look on her face that none could read, much less comprehend. The hand came so close to the girl's face that many swore up-and-down that the hand made contact, brushed the girl's cheek, but this was not so, it was merely almost so. The Avatar's hand hung in the air, no more than a half-inch from its destination, if that was what it intended, but in the end, it fell away. The Avatar took back their hand, turned away, and began to walk down the hill.

Many would swear on the eternal souls of their ancestors that, as the Avatar headed down into the valley below, they reached up, and brushed tears from their cheeks. None would believe these intrepid souls, but they really should have, for it was true.

On, the Avatar walked.

* * *

Not much to say there, so I won't say anything.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Azula knocks on a door. Stay tuned!


	128. AZULA VII

AZULA

THEY HAD REACHED THE GATE. It loomed up before them, not nearly as tall as Azula seemed to remember, but, she had to admit, it was tall enough. Not for the first time, she looked at it, long and hard, and pondered what it was in the soul of her people that required them to make everything so gods-damn ornate. The gate was just that, a gate, and not even an important one, or at least not as important as others, for example, the Western Gate, through which the Fire Lord entered when they were to be crowned, and exited when it came time for them to go to their funeral pyre. Even so, it seemed to drip with gold, the great wooden doors intricately carved, carvings that themselves dripped with gold. Even the dragons that snarled across the portion of the wall in which the gate rested were, naturally, chased with gold.

It was, in a word, rather ridiculous, which, she had to admit, seemed appropriate, considering what she was about to say.

"So," she began, sighing heavily, "now what?"

An awkward silence followed, while it seemed the entire army, which not that long before had shattered the heavens with their trumpets and their cheers, was nervously shuffling their feet and rubbing the backs of their necks. _Or maybe that's just my brother, _Azula thought. _That is, after all, kind of his thing, to awkward his way through important moments in life._

She cracked a wry little smile at herself. _As if I'm any better. Took a battle to get me to finally kiss Sokka, so the hell do I know?_

"You know what," Zuko said, sounding rather far away, "that's an _excellent _question. Anyone have any bright ideas?"

"Well," Colonel Kotaro observed, "they haven't opened fire on us…"

"But they haven't exactly thrown out the welcome mat, either," General Hattori pointed out.

"True," Azula admitted. "When you think about it, this really is a classic example of royal passive-aggressiveness."

"Because you'd be the expert in that," Zuko snarked, throwing her a wink.

"Damn right I am," Azula snarked right back. "Which doesn't change our conundrum…"

"Maybe we should just batter it down?" General Hattori offered.

"Did we even bring a battering ram?" Zuko asked.

"I could just blow it off its hinges," Azula suggested. It gratified her that no one questioned that she could, in fact, to this, and that a quick look around the gathered individuals showed that everyone was giving it serious thought. _Though, I can't be sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing…it would certainly be a satisfying thing…_

"I'm not sure that would send the right message," Zuko finally replied, making a bit of a face.

"And what message would _that _be?" Azula asked.

To his credit, Zuko shrugged, looking not the least bit enlightened. "Um…_open up, the future is here? No reason to be afraid?"_

"That depends very much on who's on the other side of those doors," Colonel Kotaro said.

Zuko sighed. "True. Still…"

"Why don't we just knock?"

Azula turned to stare at her sister-in-law, mouth hanging open, eyes wide as saucers. She recovered herself for just long enough to glance at the others, to confirm that she was not alone, then went right back to staring.

Katara, for her part, seemed undisturbed by the stunned attention. "No, really," she continued, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to suggest, "I mean it. It's possible they're not entirely sure what to do, either. I mean, from what I understand, there's not much precedent in the Fire Nation for peaceful handovers of power. So, you know, why don't we just…well…_knock?_" She shrugged, reached up tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "I mean, it can't hurt, right?"

"That," Azula said, her mouth still hanging wide open, "might well be either the dumbest or most brilliant thing I've ever heard in my entire life."

Katara threw her a brilliant smile, and chuckled. "What can I say? I'm one of a kind."

Azula nodded. "You are indeed." Then, just beyond Katara, she saw her idiot brother begin the laborious process of dismounting, which, in his state, with an arm in a sling and cast on a leg, looked a lot more like he was attempting a very poorly controlled fall. Frowning, Azula barked, "And just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Zuko threw up one his famous befuddled grins. "Um…getting ready to knock on the door?"

Katara rolled her eyes in a way that put even Azula's own theatrics to shame. "One of these days, you're going to stop being such a chivalrous idiot."

"One of these days," Zuko replied, "you're going to stop finding it adorable and thus encouraging me."

Katara giggled, which, to Azula's shock, didn't seem at _all _out of place for the situation. "Fair enough. Zula?"

Azula perked up, having been fascinated by the sight of her brother and her sister-in-law flirting right before the gates of the city they had come to perform a bit of a coup in. "Yes, Katara?"

"Would you be so kind as to knock on the door?"

Azula didn't even have to think about it. "To be brutally honest, I've been waiting to do that all my life, and I didn't even know it." With that, she jumped down from the saddle, and, very quickly, very efficiently, went to the gate, and knocked on the door.

They didn't have long to wait for an answer.

* * *

You know what? Screw the ANs for a bit. Moving on!


	129. THE FIRE LORD VII

THE FIRE LORD

HE HAD EXPECTED TO FEEL A LOT OF THINGS, WHEN THE AVATAR FINALLY CAME INTO VIEW. He had anticipated a lot of fear, because Iroh was nothing if not a man who knew himself, and was comfortable with the fact that fear was an inescapable fact of life, whether one was the Fire Lord or the lowest slave on a pirate galley. Yes, fear, he had expected, along with anger, depression, sadness, and a whole host of other emotions for which he did not even have a name, and suspected that no one else did, either.

The last thing he had expected, though, was the one thing he actually felt.

_I'm bored._

He frowned, and pondered at the feeling, as he watched the Avatar, stately and majestic as a god come to earth, begin to walk down that fateful ridge. _I'm…heh…I'm __**bored. **__I'm tired of the games, of the fighting and the wars. I'd just like to get it all over and done with, one way or the other…_

He sighed.

_One way or the other…_

And it was in that moment, right there, standing before his army, that he finally understood what had happened, all the rebellions and the mutinies, what exactly it was that had caused the entire world, it seemed, to stand up, shake their fists at the heavens, and scream those fateful words.

_No more…_

He nodded. _Yes, no more, indeed._

With hands that did not shake, did not so much as show the slightest tremor, he undid his sword-belt. Slowly, carefully, he pulled it free, wrapped the belt around his _katana, _turned to General Ikeda, who stood, as ever, at his side. "Kei?" he said, smiling like the happy, jolly old man he had always wished he could be, even before the idea had occurred to him.

Ikeda smiled, and bowed his head. "Yes, Iroh?"

Iroh held out the sword. "If you would be so kind as to take this for me. I would appreciate it if, no matter what happens, you see that that gets to Her Majesty my wife. It will be a small consolation, I know, but it would only be proper, really. I pray she understands."

For a moment, Ikeda looked like he was going to cry, and Iroh found himself wishing that that did not happen, for if Ikeda cried, Iroh was fairly certain he would blubber like a baby, and that would be all _kinds _of improper. _I mean, gods, what would the Lady Ursa think? She went to her ancestors proud and dry-eyed; how could I do any less?_

But, in the end, Ikeda did not cry. He gave himself a shake, stood to attention, and took Iroh's sword, cradling it in his arms as if it was a newborn babe. "It would be my pleasure, Iroh."

Iroh chuckled, why, he didn't know. _Maybe I chuckle just to chuckle. Wouldn't that be nice? That's what normal people do._

_ I'd almost forgotten what it was like._

Iroh turned to face the assembled officers, the enlisted men and non-coms who clustered around the edges. He smiled, and bowed, as deeply as he possibly could, held the bow, and rose. "Gentlemen, it has been an honor serving with you. Whatever comes, whatever happens, even if I fall, I trust that you will all serve whatever government follows me, and do your country and your people proud. And," and here, he allowed his smile to turn into a grin, and a decidedly unroyal one at that, "if at all possible, I pray you think kindly of the old man you see before you."

He was not a fool; he knew that more than a few of these men had followed him reluctantly, out of a grudging sense of duty, or maybe only because it was harder to mutiny when the Fire Lord was standing right in front of you. He did not blame them for this, blamed no one for anything, really. There didn't seem to be much of a point in such things anymore.

Which was why it moved him, deeply, to his core, as he had never been moved before, when every single one of them returned his bow, just as low, just as deep, and when they rose, it was Ikeda, his bottom lip trembling, who said, in a voice choked with emotion, "The honor, Your Majesty, has been all ours. May the gods be with you."

Iroh chuckled. "And also with you. Good day, gentlemen."

And with that, he turned, and went forth into the valley of death to meet his fate. He walked, tall, joyful, free, ready to make an end worthy of song, and as he walked, he sang, soft and low, so that only he could hear.

_It's a long, long way to Ba Sing Se,  
But the girls in the city, they look so pretty…  
And they kiss so sweet that you've really got to meet,  
The girls from Ba Sing Se…_


	130. THE EMPTY PRINCE II

THE EMPTY PRINCE

IN THE BEAT BETWEEN THE FIRST KNOCK AND THE SECOND, YOSHIHITO LIVED AN ENTIRE LIFE. Every single moment of it, every single second, was a horror. He watched, as a thing that wore his face barreled through life, using and abusing, never thinking of the consequences, never worrying about anyone but themselves. This thing, this _prince, _treated the world like its playground, indulged every whim, bent and twisted with every fancy. It drank and whored and beat and hit and laughed and moaned and whined and complained. When it was frustrated, it lashed like a child, leaving shattered lives and broken dreams in its wake. It did things, horrible things, that it had no need to do, but it did them anyways, because it felt like it.

He lived his life, all over again, right up until the moment that his aunt's boot struck his chin, and when the blow came once more, he closed his eyes and welcomed it and begged her to hit him again. She never did, though, no matter how much he pleaded, because she was a human being, and he was only a thing, and deserved every single second, every single _scrap, _of the misery that washed over him.

He lived an entire life, the life of a prince who did not deserve to be a prince, who was not fit to lick the shit from the boots of the cousin whom he had irrationally hated, the cousin who had done nothing but try to be all that he could be.

He lived his life, and watched it through the eyes of a man, and all he wanted to do was claw out those eyes. He didn't, though. He forced himself to watch, forced himself to see. Princes could run and hide from the consequences of their actions, for they could do no wrong. When a prince did something, no matter how wrong, it became right, by sheer virtue of a prince doing it.

But he was not a prince, he was a man, a human being, a _person, _a son of the Fire Nation, and in the Fire Nation, true men did not hide from the consequences of their actions.

Then the second knock sounded, and he knew what he had to do.

The world came back to him in fits and starts, as if he was waking up from a dream. He blinked, looked around. Everything was hazy, indistinct. He was only vaguely aware of what was going on. He heard shouting, the mad ravings of Jiro, ranting in a voice cracked, ragged, inhuman. He watched as Kiyoshiro, his father's friend, tried to calm the man, tried to be the voice of reason. He looked around, at the faces surrounding him. He realized that he was alone, that the two men had forgotten him, as they should, because what did it matter what he had to say? It didn't, never had, never would, unless he chose to do the right thing, and who would ever expect him to do that?

Not even he expected him to do that, right up until he did it.

The words were tumbling from his mouth before he knew he was even going to speak, in a voice he did not recognize. He turned to General Sugita, who stood in the street beside him. Yoshihito realized with a start that he was mounted, that he was sitting bestride a komodo-rhino in the midst of seemingly countless soldiers, regulars and city militia and the skull-faced masks of the Royal Guard. Sugita was looking to the argument, his hand on the hilt of his _katana, _eyes flicking from Kiyoshiro to Jiro and back again. Everyone else, though…

_Everyone else is looking to me…_

_ Because, even though I'm not a prince, they still think I am. And princes are supposed to know what to do. But when do we ever?_

_ When we remember that we're human beings._

_ When we remember that all things must end._

_ When we say no more._

"General Matsuura!"

For a moment, a brief, terrifying instant, he didn't know if they had heard him. He hoped they had, that they were just slow in realizing the fact. For an instant, he panicked, because he wasn't sure he had the courage to speak again.

But Kiyoshiro heard him. Kiyoshiro always did. The old man turned, and his features were worn out, drained, tired. He smiled at Yoshihito, and bowed. "Yes, my lord?"

Yoshihito gathered what little strength he had, and pushed through. "I am not speaking to you, my lord. I am speaking to General Matsuura."

Jiro perked up, a triumphant leer on his face. His expression was hungry, a wolf preparing to dive for the kill, and in his golden eyes slithered dark things for which there existed no words. "Yes, Your Highness?"

Yoshihito didn't think, he just spoke. He didn't have long; his courage was fading. But, deep in his heart, he knew he had to do it, because that was the only way he would ever earn an honorable death.

"General Matsuura, you are relieved."

Jiro blinked, the color draining from his face, his mouth flopping open like that of a dead fish. "I…I beg your pardon, Your Highness?"

"You heard me, cousin. You are relieved."

Jiro was shaking his head, rapidly, back-and-forth, as if he had not heard, did not wish to hear. "That…I refuse to accept this, Your Highness. You must be mistaken."

"For once," the voice that was not Yoshihito's intoned, "I am not. General Sugita, have my cousin taken away."

General Sugita snapped to attention and bowed. "At once, Your Highness." Sugita snapped at the gathered Royal Guard, shouted some orders, but they didn't matter. Jiro screamed like a wounded animal, shouted wordless things at something that wasn't there, and then he was gone, racing for the Palace. Soldiers began to run after him, but Yoshihito stopped them with a shout.

"Forget him," he said, feeling as if he was watching himself act in a play, "he can be dealt with later."

General Sugita bowed. "As you wish, Your Highness."

And then Kiyoshiro was there, he was right beside Yoshihito, looking up, tightly gripping his mount's bridle, his knuckles white, his eyes filled with equal parts hope and sadness. "What are your wishes, my lord?"

Once more, Yoshihito spoke without thinking.

It was the only thing he could do.

"Send word to all units: Stand down. It's over. Stand down, stack arms, go home if they wish."

Kiyoshiro gulped, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely more than a whisper.

"And the gates, Your Highness?"

Yoshihito smiled, why, he hadn't the faintest idea. "Open them, of course. At once." Then he reached up, slid the Crown Prince's headpiece from his topknot, and handed it down to Kiyoshiro. "I think you know what to do with this."

Kiyoshiro took it, carefully, gingerly, as if it were a venomous snake that might bite him at the smallest mistake. _He's not wrong, in the grand scheme of things. _"I do, Tokugawa-san. I do." And with that, Kiyoshiro gave him a polite, shallow bow, and turned towards the gates.

The gates that were opening.

Yoshihito closed his eyes, and sighed with relief.

_It's over._

_ This is how an empire falls, not with a bang, but with a few words._

He smiled.

_How appropriate._


	131. SUKI VII

SUKI

"HEY, DO YOU THINK I'LL BE ABLE TO CONVINCE TOPH TO CALL ME _STUMPLES?_"

Frowning, Suki looked up from the book she had only been half-heartedly reading. Like Sokka, she had just taken her midday pain draught, which meant that she was feeling equal parts loopy and groggy, no matter the miracles the Water Tribe healers had worked on her and her friend. Thus, she shouldn't have been able to be surprised by…well…_anything. _If Matron Diaochan had suddenly ridden into the room on the back of an obese version of the mythical Unagi, Suki imagined that she would've felt rather nonplussed by the sight.

Still, she wasn't entirely prepared to find Sokka waving the stump that was his left arm around in the air, making little puttering airship noises and grinning like some sort of demented loon.

_Though, to be fair, _she admitted to herself, _I should know Sokka well enough at this point to not be surprised at the strange twists and turns of his unfathomable little brain._

Giving up on the book (_which hadn't been all that interesting to begin with, to be brutally honest, for all that Lobsang had been the one to recommend it_), Suki stuck a random piece of paper in between her current pages, closed it, set it aside, and took a few moments to really come to terms with what Sokka was doing. Unable to do so, she began giggling, and briefly wondered what _her _smile looked like. _Hopefully, not half as demented as his._

"Sokka, my dear," she said, still giggling, no longer thrown off by the raspy, vaguely air-headed voice the pain draughts tended to provoke in her, "just how much milk of the poppy do they have you on?"

He shrugged (_as best as he could_), giggled like a little girl who had just gulped a glass of wine behind mommy's back, and continued making his stump perform acrobatics. "You know…that's a good question…the healers say I'm out of the woods, and that they've fixed pretty much all the major damage, but…" His voice trailed off, and for a long time, he was silent, brow knitted, looking quite confused. "The fuck was I talking about again?"

Suki giggled, though, it might be better to say that she never stopped. _All of this giggling…I'm as bad as that poor Ty Lee girl, gods rest her wonderful soul. _"Um…" She pursed her lips in thought, a sight that provoked a fresh round of giggles from Sokka, which, in turn, provoked some more giggles from her. Both of them giggling as uncontrollably as their injuries allowed, it was quite some time (_or so it felt to Suki_) before either one of them was able to calm down. Wiping tears from her eyes, Suki shook her head and admitted defeat.

"Honestly," she admitted, "I'm not entirely sure." She swallowed a big gulp of water (_since one of the side-effects of the pain medicine was chronic thirst_), still trying to get a handle on her giggles. "I think…gods…" She looked down into her water, making slow, lazy circles with it, felt a random twitch in her arm. Annoyed, she set the water down, before spending what felt like _far _too long readjusting her arm in its sling. Satisfied (_more or less_), she nodded, turned back to Sokka, to find that he had stopped doing acrobatics with his arm, and was now staring up at the ceiling, making strange puttering noises with his lip. "The hell are you doing, Sokka?"

He seemed like he was giving that quite a bit of thought, though, from what Suki could tell, he could just as easily have been dozing off into another of his long naps. _Not that I blame him; I'm half asleep myself right now. _"I'm…you know, I'm not entirely sure. The hell _am _I doing?"

Suki could only shrug. "Don't look at me; if you don't know, I sure as hell don't." A thought lurched into her head, more akin to a drunk staggering into a room than an actual idea. "Hey…have you decided what to do about the North's little offer?"

For a moment, Sokka looked utterly lost. He frowned, eyes big and confused, but the light went on and he flashed a lazy, drugged-up smile. "Right, the throne! That really happened? I didn't just dream that?"

If Suki was upfront with herself (_and she liked to be, as a general rule_), she was a bit hazy on the difference between her poppy dreams and reality, too. Still… "Well, Toph and Asami say it happened, so, unless this is an elaborate joke-"

"Which," Sokka observed, "is completely within the realm of possibility, when it comes to Toph."

Suki laughed. "I could see that, though, Asami wouldn't go along with it."

Sokka popped an eyebrow. _Or, at least, slowly let one eyebrow drift up his forehead. _"Don't be so sure; that girl has some hidden deviousness."

"Heh…probably. Still…you going to do it?"

He frowned. "Do what?"

_Ugh. Fucking pain draughts and fucking…GAH! _"The Northern _throne, _you idiot. You going to take it?"

He rolled his eyes. "Girl, right now, my tether to reality is so flimsy I'm not entirely sure you're actually here, or if I'm just dreaming it."

"You don't seem too bothered."

"Meh, I've decided to roll with it. But, yeah, as for _becoming a king and shit…_well…_eh. _I'd have to talk to my sister first."

"And Azula."

He closed his eyes, and a soft smile slowly creased his face. "Yeah…eventually. I have other things I'd like to discuss first."

Suki giggled. "I'm sure. Still…um…hey…you hear that?"

One of Sokka's eyes opened a miniscule crack. "Hear what?"

She raised a finger into the air. "That…that…that _ringing…?_"

Because that was what it was. A faint, almost inaudible buzz, as if a bee was buzzing around in another room. The longer she listened, the stronger it grew, along with a strange, somewhat frightening sensation of static that began to crackle through the air. Sokka said something, but she didn't hear him, wasn't sure she could have; everything was starting to feel distant, flimsy, _surreal. _She had a crushing, somewhat terrifying sensation of _unreality, _as if this were all, in fact, a dream, and a flimsy one at that.

She was standing, hobbling her way across the room, bouncing from one support to the next, careful to put no weight on her leg, which was still tightly bound in a cast. After some time and great difficulty, she reached the _window _Toph had punched out of the wall, leaned against the _sill _(for lack of a better word), tilted her head out and into the open air.

The buzzing (_or ringing, or whatever, she couldn't put a word to the sound, if a sound was, indeed, what it was_) was stronger, out here in the open air. The buzz was stronger, and the static, too, along with the bizarre feeling that lighting was about to strike. The sky was hidden behind thick, glowering clouds, and world was heavy with the scent of oncoming rain. A cold, fell sort of wind was blowing, sending leaves skittering down the streets, and making the trees whisper, like ghosts in the night.

She shook her head. It didn't make any sense. She leaned still further out, craned her neck towards the southeast. The buzzing grew stronger, the wind grew colder. The occasional drop of ice-cold rain began to drip from the heavens.

_And yet, _she reflected, feeling vaguely annoyed, _I still have no idea where that gods-damn buzzing is coming-_

That's when, as she watched, a ramrod-straight spike of blindingly white light shot up from some point to the southeast, slicing up from the ground and shattering the world.

Suki, Daughter of Kyoshi, watched, awestruck, and could think of only one thing to say.

_"Gods…"_

And yet, for all that she was more scared than she had ever been in her entire life, she could not bring herself to look away.

* * *

For those playing the home game, Toph is _totally _going to start calling Sokka _Stumples. _You just know she is.

Well, that's all for today. The wife has to finish a paper for her grad school class, and it's my job to be supportive, helpful, doing editing, be a sounding board for ideas, and keep her focused, because who likes writing papers? Well, I do, but I need help; _normal people _hate writing papers, because _gah. _

I hope you're enjoying the coming climax; I know I am! In the next chapter, Jiro really loses it. Stay tuned!


	132. JIRO XI

JIRO

HE RAN, OR, AT LEAST, HE TRIED TO. Jiro kept stumbling, staggering, bouncing off of walls and lampposts, falling to his knees and going skidding along the cobbled streets. His hands were soon covered in scrapes, blood trickling from countless little scratches, and his body felt battered and bruised and abused. His breath came in great, heaving gasps, and he was covered with sweat, couldn't seem to cool down, couldn't seem to form a single, even somewhat-coherent thought. Nothing made sense. The world kept spinning, spinning and lurching, as if the gods themselves were arrayed against him, tilting the earth hither-and-yon, like some sort of terrifying child's game.

_And my head…_

His head hurt, hurt like it had never hurt before. It brought tears to his eyes, tears he forgot about as soon as they fell. His chest burned, his body ached, but his head, his head was worst of all. He suddenly had a strange image of a melon bursting open from within, thousands of tiny black spiders pouring out, crawling over his body, biting and stinging, making for his mouth, his nose, his ears, his eyes. He was drowning in the spiders, terrified, confused, distraught. He wanted the image to go away, but he couldn't make it disappear. He couldn't make his head stop hurting, couldn't run a straight line, and couldn't stop thinking about spiders eating him from the inside out.

And so, Matsuura Jiro ran, or, at least, tried to.

He had a vague memory of coming up against the Royal Guardsmen who had been left behind at the Palace, bursting through their thin, disorganized line and staggering his way up the steps, up, up, ever up. He was pretty sure that they had called to him, their eyes wide, their voices as lost as their expressions. He had ignored them, though; he hadn't the time. He had bowled right through them, up the steps, up…up…

_Up…_

He opened his eyes. He was in the throne room, sitting upon the Scarlet Throne itself. He didn't know how he had gotten there, didn't know how long he had been there. He heard whispers, a thousand-thousand voices and one, one and many, he couldn't tell, it made his head hurt, spiders, _spiders eating me alive, I was always afraid of spiders, Father once made me eat one, because I needed to know to never let fear rule me, to feel no fear, I can't feel fear, it's not in my nature to be afraid, Father told me so, I say so, I don't understand I'm so lost it doesn't make any sense gods are you there why have you forsaken me…_

_ What happened?_

_ Where did it all go wrong?_

He blinked. He was out on the Agni Kai ground, just beyond the back doors of the Palace. The sun was high in the sky, and he felt very hot. The air was warm, stifling, stale. He ran his tongue around in his mouth, tasted blood and sweat and salt and tears, though that didn't make sense, he didn't bleed, didn't cry, _it is not in my nature to do so…_

_ Not in my nature…_

_ Not in…_

_ My…_

_ Gods…_

_ What happened…_

"What happened, my lord, is that you lost. You have been beaten. If you want my advice, you'll just wait quietly, right here, until your cousins can come deal with you."

Jiro looked up. Kojima was standing before him, looming before him, _though that shouldn't be possible, when did I fall to my knees, how did this happen, I don't understand, I don't remember coming here, don't remember falling to my knees, it doesn't make sense, it's not in my nature to be on my knees..._

_ "What?" _he croaked. His voice was cracked, raw, his throat feeling like a dull knife had been scrapped down it. He couldn't seem to breathe right, couldn't stop wheezing, his body was trembling, his hands shaking like leaves in a vicious storm, that's how he felt, like he was at the center of a storm, the worst storm anyone had ever seen, only not, it didn't make sense, _he didn't understand, my head won't stop hurting oh gods my head my head why does my head…_

Kojima never answered. He just threw back his head and laughed. Jiro joined him. Jiro buried his face in his hands and his shoulders heaved and he laughed and laughed though it felt a lot like he was crying, though surely that wasn't the case…

_Surely…_

He was like that when they found him.

* * *

Good afternoon everyone! That was pretty intense, wasn't it? I thought so.

One quick note, in response to inthehood's comment about Toph's use of the old standby of calling someone [insert derogatory characteristic] Mc-[other derogatory characteristic]: It's important to remember that there's a translation convention in place here. As much as I wish I could write an entire story in another language, I can't, and so, though everyone _looks _like they're speaking English, they're not. Thus, whenever you see something like that, just insert whatever the equivalent in that language is, and never forget that every language has silly and/or derogatory nicknames for people. If you don't believe me, ask my wife; Mexicans _love _their nicknames (for example, one of her uncles is called is basically called _Pale __Guy, _because he's paler than most Mexicans).

Oh, and what are Sokka and Suki on? Nothing special, just standard pain draughts, probably something opiate based. If it works like most painkillers, they totally do feel pain, only it's dulled and the meds make them not care about it. At least, that's been my experience with pain meds.

But whatever, moving on! In the next chapter...why don't you just go scope it out? Woo!


	133. THE FIRE LORD VIII

THE FIRE LORD

FOR WHAT FELT LIKE A LONG TIME, IROH STOOD ACROSS FROM THE AVATAR, UNABLE TO THINK OF A SINGLE THING TO SAY. His wits escaped him, and his tongue felt thick and leaden in his mouth. It wasn't that he was afraid; actually, in a state of affairs that deeply confused him, he felt more or less nothing. It was like a great, ice cold emptiness was yawning within the very core of his soul, a vast lack of _being, _endless and deep as the darkest depths of the night.

_Yes, _Iroh though, as the storm-clouds swirled and thickened over his head and thunder rumbled in the distance like a beast growling just under the horizon, _I have passed beneath the shadow. Behind me, lies the past, before me, the future, but here, in the present, only the darkness._

_ The darkness, _he thought, feeling a strange _something (he wouldn't call it a smile) _tugging at the corners of his mouth. _The darkness…_

_ And the Avatar…_

In a sudden flash, his manners returned to him. He bowed, low and deep at the waist, rose, and said, in the voice of the old man he very much felt himself to be, "Good day, Lady Avatar."

The Avatar's face curled into a strange, sad sort of smile as they returned the bow. "Good day yourself, Your Majesty." The Avatar's voice was not quite the _thousand-and-one _of legend, but it was not quite anything Iroh could call human, either. _Though, _he admonished himself, _what would __**I **__know about being human?_

_ I am, after all, merely the Fire Lord. _He gave himself a snort of derision. _Though, not for long, I think. And after, should I live…what will I be?_

He didn't know, but, in the first spark of emotion since he had stepped away from the protection of his army, he found himself wanting to find out.

The Avatar's sad, distant smile remained as they rose from their bow. They tilted their head, giving Iroh a unnatural, quizzical sort of look. "Not quite what you were expecting?"

Iroh chuckled; for reasons he couldn't quite explain, the question amused him. "Actually, if I'm completely honest, you are more or less _exactly _as I imagined you to be, my lady. Maybe I hadn't pictured you as looking quite so young, but, well…" He gave a nonchalant, bored shrug. "I _am _an old man, and we old men have difficulty imagining anyone else's youth but our own."

The Avatar scoffed, seeming amused, though Iroh couldn't be entirely sure. _Do Avatars get amused? Do Avatars even laugh? _It was, he felt, a philosophical conundrum for the ages. _Maybe I'll ask her._

_ Preferably over a cup of tea. I wonder what kind she likes?_

"You're not _that _old, Your Majesty."

This time, he didn't just chuckle; he threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, my lady, you are just _too _kind. I will take your compliment, and keep it close; hopefully, it will warm my heart in my retirement."

The Avatar frowned, and their eyes fell to the ground. "I…I can't guarantee that, Your Majesty."

He sighed. _Oh well, can't have everything, can we? _"I understand, my lady, and I appreciate your honesty. You are a credit to your lineage, my dear."

The Avatar did something that Iroh could only call a _smirk. _"Heh…we'll see about that, Your Majesty."

He didn't follow, but he supposed it didn't matter. _Who can fathom the depths of the Avatar's mind? Not this fat old man, that's for sure. _"You shall, I don't doubt. Though, while we're on the subject…please, feel free to call me Iroh."

The Avatar popped an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

He nodded, reaching up to slide his crown from his topknot. It was, to his surprise, incredibly easy, and as the crown left his hair, it was as if an immense weight had been lifted from his shoulders. _Ah…that's more like it… _

"Well," he said, hefting the crown in his hands, marveling at how little of a thing it was, in the end, "let's face it: You are a fully realized Avatar. Even an army would not be able to stand against you, and with that in mind, I don't fancy my own chances, even were my grandfather's comet here in full force. And, while we're being honest…" He paused, took a deep breath, let it out, chuckled softly in the back of his throat. "I can't imagine that the world will let me continue to sit on my ancestors' throne, once this little bit of drama is done."

The Avatar shook their head. "No, I imagine not."

He sighed. "Indeed." And then, still stunned at how easy it all was, he tossed the crown that was no longer his out into the grass, far away, where he would no longer have to look at it, ever again. _There, that's better. _He bowed once more. "Congratulations, my lady." He rose. "You have won."

The Avatar shook their head. "No, I'm afraid that I have not."

He frowned, confused. "Oh? What more could you need?"

"First," the Avatar said, extending one finger, "I'm afraid I must remove your bending."

He nodded. _Ah, so the legends are true. _He had read, in dusty, ancient tomes, that when Avatars became fully realized, their past lives would grant them the ability to _energybend, _something only the Avatar could do, and which truly elevated the Avatar to the level of the gods themselves. "I was afraid of that…still, no help for it. I can see why; can't let me have even the slightest claim to power. Will I survive?"

The Avatar shrugged. "Of that, I can't be sure. You're very powerful, and…well…_not young."_

He chuckled. "That's one way to put it. Well, I shall not resist. The gods have spoken, as have my people, though…may I ask one question?"

The Avatar smiled. "Of course, Tokugawa-san."

_My, my, such manners. My niece has taught you well, young lady. _"Please," he said, his expression, like his voice, very serious, "do not replace the tyranny of my dynasty with the tyranny of the Avatar. It was that very tyranny that my grandfather, gods rest his soul and forgive him his many sins, rebelled against when he plunged this world into madness."

The Avatar's smile changed. He wasn't quite sure how to describe what that change was, but if he had to put it into words, he would say…

_He would say…_

_ For a moment, the Avatar disappeared, and in their place was a teenage girl, with a happy smile and bright eyes and a heart filled to bursting with hope._

It was quite the wonderful sight.

"That," the Avatar said, and he couldn't help but feel that their voice had changed, too, how, he couldn't say, but it was…_different, _"will bring me to my second point."

He nodded. "Which is…?"

The Avatar shook their head. "Not now, Tokugawa-san. Now, I'm afraid, we cannot put this off any longer. I haven't much time."

He sighed, and closed his eyes. "So be it," he said, confused at the voice. _Is that really me? I sound so old…_

_ So old…_

He fell, carefully, slowly, to his knees, and began to sing, softly, a song from his youth, a song he had not thought of in a long, long time.

_Leaves from the vine,  
Falling so slow.  
Like fragile, tiny shells,  
Drifting in the foam.  
Little soldier boy,  
Come marching home.  
Brave soldier boy,  
Comes marching home…_

He felt two fingers, one above each eye, and a hand, resting itself over his heart. He felt the Avatar reach into his heart, reach into his soul. Something burned. An instinct, from deep within some dark place, a place he didn't know, told him to fight, told him he could resist.

He ignored it. He ignored it, and kept singing.

_Brave soldier boy,  
Comes marching home…_

Then the darkness enveloped him, and he let it come. He smiled, and greeted it like an old friend, and dove into a dream of a tea shop, and children laughing like chimes ringing in the breeze.

* * *

Today, my wife is going through her summative evaluation. For those who don't speak teacher, that basically means she's being told how she did this year, and if they're keeping her. I have complete and utter faith in her, but a few more well wishes won't hurt. If you love me, you have to love her (we're kind of a package deal), so think nice thoughts for her, if you don't mind!

Love you babe!

As for an actual AN...fuck it! Let's keep this ball rolling!


	134. KATARA VIII

KATARA

"WHAT'S HAPPENING?" AZULA ASKED, HER VOICE A BREATHLESS HUSH. "What am I seeing?"

Katara shook her head, tears of boundless, endless joy burning in her eyes. "I don't know," she said in Yuupik, unable to form her words in any other way, resolving there and then to teach her husband and her sister-in-law her tribal dialect, ancient traditions be damned. "I don't know, but whatever it is, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She felt a pressure on her hand. She didn't have to turn, because she knew exactly what is was, merely entwined her fingers with her husband's and squeezed Zuko's hand for all she was worth.

_It really is a marvelous sight, _she thought, as the weapons flew. Spears were falling from the walls, the soldiers thereupon casting down their weapons and walking away. Spears, swords, daggers, bows, quivers of arrows, it all rained down, or clattering uselessly upon the walls, a constant pitter-patter of peace finally come. What little fight there had been before left the watchers like a gust before a storm, and she watched, awestruck, as a random officer clambered up on the gatehouse and tore the banner of the Fire Lords from its pole. The officer regarded the flag for a moment, his face filled with emotions Katara could not describe, and she wondered if even he knew what he was feeling, before, in a sudden burst of motion, the officer hurled the flag from the battlements and walked away, not even bothering to watch as the flag fluttered to the ground right in front of Katara.

Her breath hitched on the lump in her throat, and it was all she could do to keep herself from bursting into tears. _It's over, it's finally over._

She looked up to the heavens and uttered a prayer of thanks to gods she hadn't spoken to in a long time. _Finally…_

_ Thank you…_

Then the gates opened, and there was nothing else to do. She looked to her husband, who squeezed her hand and smiled. She smiled back, looked to her sister-in-law, who re-mounted her komodo-rhino and threw her a jaunty wink, a jaunty wink that Katara returned.

There wasn't anything left to say, and so they didn't say it. They just advanced, passed under the shadow of the gates, and emerged, feeling reborn, into the sun and a brand new world.

The street was lined with milling throngs of soldiers and civilians. Other soldiers were wandering away, hands in their pockets, helms and weapons scattered upon the ground, while the citizens of the city opened their windows, leaned out, and watched, spellbound, as Katara entered the city of the Fire Lords, an army at her back.

Waiting for them was a curious little group. There was an old man, easily in his late-fifties or early-sixties, a few generals, grooms holding on to komodo-rhinos, various men whose clothes identified them as high-born nobility, and, standing beside the old man, a young one, about thirty, thin, drawn, pale, his hair undone and falling upon his shoulders.

Katara's breath hitched, but it was Azula who spoke for them all. Gasping, she whispered, _"Gods…is that…is that Yoshihito?"_

Zuko nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. "It is."

"Not quite what I imagined," Katara admitted.

"Change never is," Zuko observed, and Katara found this incredibly profound.

When they reached the little party, everyone bowed, all but the old man falling to their knees and pressing their foreheads to the ground. Katara, Zuko, and Azula exchanged confused looks, before nodding to each other and dismounting, bending at their waists to return the bows. They rose, and Zuko gave his cousin a long, hard look. "Hello, cousin."

The man Katara now knew was Crown Prince Yoshihito got slowly, laboriously to his feet, shrugged, and cracked a sad, vaguely pathetic smile. "Hello yourself, cousin. As you can see, I've finally taken your advice, and fucked myself."

Zuko scoffed, while Azula snorted and said, "About gods-damn time, you bastard."

If Yoshihito was bothered, he didn't show it. "What can I say? I'm a slow learner." Then, he turned and bowed to the old man. "Imawano-san, I believe it's your show." He looked once more around, sighed, shrugged. "Well, exit stage left, I suppose," he said, and with that, he wandered off, and was gone.

_And if that doesn't say everything that needs to be said about what's happening here, _Katara decided, _I'll eat this stupid little headpiece in my hair._

She turned her attention back to the man known as _Imawano-san, _watched as he drew an ornate scroll on expensive-looking paper from within his robes. He held the scroll up, so that all could see what could only be the royal seal upon it, and turned to face Katara, a smile on his face. "My lady," he said, bowing his head, "it appears that you are the authority here." Azula scoffed at this, but Katara ignored it, bowing her head back at the old man.

"It appears I am. What is that?"

Imawano-san chuckled. "This, my lady, is His Majesty Fire Lord Iroh's last will and testament. In the event of…well…_this…_I was to inform Prince Zuko and Princess Azula of its contents, and leave any further decisions in their hands."

Katara nodded. She felt light-headed, and there was a strange, suffocating tightness in her chest. It was suddenly very hot, and she wanted nothing more than to tear off her robes and leap into an ice cold bath, scrub herself clean, curl up with her husband, and wile away the rest of her life pretending war was something she had never heard of.

But, she had to speak, and, somehow, she did.

"Very well, my lord. If you would be so kind…"

Imawano-san nodded, and began to speak.

"In this will, His Majesty Fire Lord Iroh designates his heirs as the Prince Zuko and the Princess Azula, whichever one wishes to take the throne. Either them, or whoever they chose to rule in their stead. His Majesty, whose reign now is ended, surrenders all claims upon the Scarlet Throne, both for himself and his entire family, except for his niece and his nephew." He sighed, and he looked very old, very old and very tired. "He also begs of his niece and nephew, and, by extension, the world entire, their forgiveness, and prays that they think kindly upon his memory."

Katara knew that she should have felt a lot of things. Shock, confusion, fear, anything at all, really. What she did not expect to feel, though, was a sense of unbounded relief, a lifting of an immense weight from her shoulders, and a strong desire to burst into tears.

She also hadn't expected to know _exactly _what to do.

_Because there's only one thing to do, isn't there? One thing, and one thing only._

_ And that's this._

And, without a moment's hesitation, she reached up, slid the royal headpiece from her hair, tossed in the air, watched the sun catch the gold like a spark in the night, caught it in her hand. _Not so much, in the end, is it? For this, countless tens-of-thousands have died, struggled and fought, spent their entire lives._

_ For this._

She shook her head.

_No more._

"My lord," she said, surprised at how level and calm her voice was, as level and calm as herself, "as you have no doubt guessed, my husband, the Prince Zuko, and his sister, the Princess Azula, have renounced all claim to the Scarlet Throne. My name, as you have no doubt also guessed, is Katara, daughter of Hakoda and Kya, of the Yuupik Clan of the Southern Water Tribes. It is in my hands that they have left the final decision."

Imawano-san smiled, and Katara couldn't help but feel that he was somewhat charmed by her courtesies. This surprised her, just as it surprised her that no one seemed stunned by what she had just said. _Even the husband part…_

"In that case, my lady," Imawano-san said, "I cannot help but believe that we are in good hands. You are the Avatar's waterbending instructor and mentor, are you not?"

She bowed her head. "I am."

"Very well. Then what is your decision?"

She giggled. "Isn't it obvious?" And with that, she strode up to the old man, pulled out his hand, and dropped the headpiece into it. She stood back, rendered a final bow, and said the only words that could be said, in that place, on that day.

"The Tokugawa dynasty is over. The Fire Lords are no more. The long night of our world has ended."

After that, there wasn't much left to do, now, was there? The army began to scatter, only the Ninety-Fourth following them into the city and towards the Palace. Imawano-san and the rest of the party of notables walked behind them, and Zuko, Azula, and Katara walked in front, towards the Palace, towards their destiny.

She had one more chance to be surprised. As they walked, her arm threaded through her husband's, so that he could subtly lean on her for support, Azula humming a happy tune, the people came out and watched. The people came out, tore down flags, sent them fluttering into the street to be trod upon.

They didn't cheer; Katara wouldn't have expected that. No, instead, they clapped, softly, gently, but clapped just the same.

It was the second-most beautiful sound Katara had ever heard in her entire life. The only thing that could compare was the sound of Zuko's voice, the first time he told her that he loved her.

_We did it, _she exulted. _We did it._

_ It's over._

_ We won._

* * *

Like I said, screw the ANs. Moving on!


	135. TOPH VII

TOPH

THE STILLNESS WAS WHAT FRIGHTENED HER THE MOST. Never in all her life had she felt such exquisite, unfathomable _calm. _The wind was still hurtling across the valley, but she could not hear it. Banners should've been snapping in the breeze, people should've been coughing, muttering, jostling each other. Someone should've dropped something, or bumped into something or someone else, cursed or mumbled an apology. Anything should have been happening. _Anything at all._

_ But nothing was happening. _It was like the entire world, every man, woman, and child, had decided, all at the same time, to hold their breath.

It was like the first moment she realized that she could not see, that the darkness in which she had born would be the same darkness in which she would die, only much, much worse.

Toph reached out, for the first time in her life in a way that could be described as _blindly. _She grasped the first thing she found, a hand, warm, a pulse fluttering wildly just under the skin. She grabbed on, held tight, as if it was the only thing in a vast ocean keeping her from drowning. She stretched her senses, threw out her consciousness, realized it was Asami, felt the pulse, heard the heartbeat like blood rushing in her ears, and almost wept with relief at the knowledge that she was not yet alone.

"Asami," she said, not even bothering to keep the terror from her voice, the all-consuming fear, the heartache, "_Asami. The fuck is going on?" _There was no answer, and Toph began to doubt everything her senses were trying to tell her. _What happened? Are we all dead?_

_ Did the world end, and I was too blind to notice?_

She began to freak. Her heart raced, even as it dropped into the pit of her stomach. She began to shake Asami's hand, knew that she was shaking the girl's entire body, and didn't care. She shook the hand, the arm, and shouted Asami's name, until finally, Asami answered.

Toph couldn't help but feel that it was revealing that Asami's voice betrayed not the least bit of irritation. _Either that, or I imagined shaking her like a gods-damn ragdoll._

_ Anything's possible, at this point._

"I…I don't know," Asami said, her words soft, barely even there. "Korra…she…she _did something _to the Fire Lord, I don't even know how to describe it, and now the Fire Lord is on the ground, he's not moving…she looks like she's talking to him…I…I don't…Lobsang…?"

Toph looked to where she sensed Lobsang was standing, and wished she hadn't. Even a newborn babe would've been able to sense the shock and awe pouring from him in waves.

"_Gods,_" he said, his voice as distant as Asami's had been, _"it's true. The stories…the legends…they said Avatars could…could remove someone's bending, but…" _A hand made contact with a forehead, and there was a rustling sound as Lobsang dragged his fingertips over his face. _"I never actually imagined it was true…"_

That was when Toph felt it, like one of Katara's ice-spears driven right into her heart. She gasped, let go of Asami, fell to her knees. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She knew exactly what was about to happen.

_No, the world isn't ending._

_ But mine might be about to._

Asami was there, right there on the ground beside her, arms thrown tight around her. "Toph," she said, her words shot through with equal parts terror and concern, "_Toph. What…what did you see…?"_

For once, Toph had no snarky comebacks, no obscenities. Her smart mouth deserted her for a moment, and she didn't even notice it run off to hide in a hole.

"_She…she looked at me…"_

There was a tremor, as if Asami was shaking her head. "I know," she said, "I saw her. She…"

Toph cut her off. "No, _you don't understand. _That wasn't the Avatar, that was _Korra. _And Korra…_she looked at me…"_

She took a deep breath. She felt wetness on her face, but whether that was the cold rain that was beginning to fall, or her own tears, she couldn't be sure, and didn't care.

_Korra…my Korra…she looked at me…and I know she smiled…and I know the smile was very sad…_

_ As if she was never going to see me again…_

In an instant, the fear vanished. There was only the determination, and the resolve.

In that moment, even as the ground began to shake, even as the watching crowds began to run or fall to their knees in almost religious terror, Toph Bei Fong, daughter of Lao, daughter of Jiayi, daughter of Gaoling, knew _exactly _what she had to do.

She ran. She ran, not back, but _forward._

She ran, and didn't have to use her senses to know Lobsang and Asami were running with her.


	136. ZUKO VIII

ZUKO

"YOU KNOW," ZUKO SAID, IN A BREATHLESS KIND OF VOICE, "IT'S NOT AS BIG AS I REMEMBER IT."

It really wasn't. There he was, standing at the foot of the steps that led up to the front doors of the Palace, and all he could think was, _Really? This is it? _All his life, this place had tried to define him. He had been born here, grown up here, nearly died here. He and his sister had chased each other through its halls, hidden from their father's rage in its corners and closets, laughed when it let them and cried when it didn't. He thought of elaborate balls, tutors' bamboo rods, the young servant girls who used to giggle at him, the young servant boys whom Azula and Ty Lee turned into blushing, stuttering piles of goo. He thought…

He looked up at the heavens, at the bright blue sky, and thought of his friends.

_I invited them here, Toru and Toshiro, for my eighteenth birthday. Toru's eyes went wide when he saw it, were wide and wondering the entire time. We laughed and diced and played cards, strutted about in our cadets' uniforms, teased and joked and japed. The party in the main ballroom was, quite possibly, the only official function my sister and I ever truly enjoyed. Even Mother was smiling._

He chuckled, looked to his sister. "Hey, Zula, you remember my eighteenth birthday? When I invited Toru and Toshiro here?"

Azula sighed, happy, free, content. "I remember that Ty had a _huge _crush on Toshiro for a while after that, and that I decided I liked Toru when he kept making you dance with Mai."

Katara giggled, and gave Zuko a nudge with her elbow. "Aww, that's sweet! He really did that?"

Zuko could only shrug and rub the back of his neck. "What can I say? He was a good guy, the best friend one could ever ask for. Heh…you know, at one point, Toshiro and Toru and I started dancing with each other, just as a lark, trading back-and-forth."

Katara shot him her most wonderful smile, and his heart melted. _Thank the gods you're here. I never could've done any of this without you._

"You told me about that, though," her smile turned mischievous, and her eyes slid to Azula, "according to your sister, there was a lot more alcohol involved than you had previously let on."

Zuko chuckled. "In my defense, it got a bit blurry at some point."

"Uncle thought it was hysterical, though," Azula observed, voice a bit distant, a bit wistful. "Couldn't stop laughing, was wiping tears from his eyes by the end of the song."

Katara nodded as she slid up beside Zuko and threaded her arm through his. "You know, I think I would've liked to have been there." She leaned over, gave Zuko a peck on the cheek. "Your friends wouldn't have had to make you dance if _I _was present."

Zuko blushed, not even annoyed anymore at how his wife could still do that to him, while Azula scoffed and began walking up the steps. "Enough woolgathering; we have one last thing to do, one last score to settle."

Zuko sighed, and felt his expression begin to darken. Somewhere in the Palace, his half-cousin wandered, screaming at ghosts and phantoms, lost to reality. Soldiers from the Ninety-Fourth were already fanning out through the complex in big, well-armed groups, looking for the man, joined by those members of the Royal Guard who hadn't either already gone home, or hadn't decided to just sit down where they were and wait for someone to tell them what to do.

_Yes, _he thought, _one last thing to do, and then, finally, my destiny will be all my own, and I will never have to look at this place again._

_**Ever.**_

He leaned over, kissed his wife, and then, together, Katara helping him up steps that seemed much bigger and steeper than he remembered, they followed Azula up and into the Palace, side-by-side, faces identical masks of determination.


	137. KORRA V

KORRA

_AND THAT, _KORRA THOUGHT, NODDING WITH SATISFACTION AS SHE RELEASED THE EARTH FROM HER GRASP, _SHOULD DO IT. _The walls she had raised were higher, higher even than the shattered wall that enclosed the Inner City of Ba Sing Se. They were thick, too, as thick at the base as she could reasonably make them. Even Toph would have difficulty smashing her way through _these._

Her heart fluttered, and she sighed. _Toph…I hope you saw me…_

_ I hope you can forgive me for what I'm about to attempt to do…_

She let her mind fly free, for the first time since that mountain, up on the northern edges of the Earth Kingdom. She spread her arms, and well and truly became herself again. She was, once more, an almost eighteen-year-old girl, so far from home, _only, not really. _She let the faces come, Katara and Sokka and Azula and Asami and Zuko and Suki and Lobsang. She felt her heart warm, almost _glow, _as the severed attachments were made anew.

She let the pain come, too, the faces of all those she had failed to help, failed to save. She understood now what that had meant, that she felt guilt and blame for her failures. _It is because I am Korra. Not the Avatar, but __**Korra. **__That is all I've ever been, and that is the greatest possible thing I could ever be._

_ Just a girl._

_ Just __**me.**_

She turned on her heel, walked over to where the Fire Lord lay in the grass. Rain was falling, great big drops, slow for now, but she could feel it in the air, the coming storm. It seemed appropriate, somehow, for everything to end this way. After all, she was of the people of water, and it was fitting to meet her destiny in the rain.

She crouched down, reached out, brushed some stray hairs from the old man's face. She couldn't quite bring herself to hate him, or even dislike him. At his heart, he was a good man, a good man who had done his best, or, at least, the best that he knew to do. He was a good man who had been shackled by the chains of duty and history, who had tried to fulfill the dreams his forefathers had left him, whether he wanted to or not.

"I hope you live," she said, in her tribal dialect, the language she had not spoken since the mountain. "I really do." She leaned down, and pecked the old man on the forehead. "You have a nice face, and I feel like you have a good heart." She rose, brushed stray bits of dirt and grass from her long Water Tribe skirt. "I would've had your people come and get you, because it's their right to decide your fate, not mine, never mine, but I couldn't hesitate. I had to act, and act quickly, or else I would lose my resolve." She bowed to him, low and deep, just as Katara and Azula had taught her. "Gods be with you, Tokugawa-san, for I doubt they'll be thinking kindly of me."

Then she strode away, into the center of her ring of rock. She looked up at the sky, at the clouds, looked beyond. She felt a faint buzzing in her ears, hushed voices, voices threaded with panic, a thousand voices and one.

She spread her arms, and for a final, brief moment, let the world flood her senses. She felt the earth beneath her feet, the air on her skin, the fire in her heart, the water falling from above and coursing through her skin. She felt it all, and never, in all her life, had she been more alive.

_Because, _she thought, as the very spirit of the earth pulsed through her veins, _you're absolutely right, Tokugawa-san. If I was merely to replace the tyranny of the Fire Lords with the old tyranny of the Avatars, well…what would I have accomplished? Absolutely nothing, that's what._

She smiled, and laughed like she had never laughed before.

_Look at me, past lives, spirits, Raava, all of you. Look at me._

_ My name is Korra, daughter of Tonraq, daughter of Senna. I was born to poverty-stricken herders at the bottom of the world, herders who could not even write their own names. _

_ My name is Korra, not the Avatar. It never was, and never will be._

_ My name is Korra, and I am finally going to do what should have been done, a long time ago._

_ My name is Korra, and I love a girl named Toph._

And it was then, with Toph's face firmly fixed in her mind, that she pressed two fingers to her brow, and pressed her other hand to her heart. She marshaled all her energy, all her power, reached into her very soul, and began to pull.

The world stopped, and all she saw was the white.


	138. JIRO XII

JIRO

"THEY'RE HERE, MY LORD."

Jiro dropped the hands from his face, looked up, and saw that, sure enough, Kojima was right. _They are here. _Soldiers were beginning to pour out of the Palace, filtering along the edges of the dueling ground, at least a couple platoons' worth, officers striding back-and-forth with _katanas _drawn, barking muffled orders. They all had weapons out, spears leveled, several had fire burning in the palms of their hands, and their eyes…_their faces and their eyes…_

_ They're looking at me like I'm some kind of rabid dog…_

_ Rabid dog…_

The ringing was back in his ears, the deafening, mind-splitting ringing, and the pain, _oh gods the pain, _he couldn't stand it, _it made him want to cry, _but his face was wet, he didn't know why, the sun was high and bright and there was not even a shred of cloud in the sky, _so why is my face wet, I can't be crying…_

_ It's not in my nature to cry…_

_ "What happened?" _he croaked, his words shredding his throat like a knife, sending pain shuddering into the tattered remnant of his soul. He looked up at Kojima, looked at the man standing there, eternal cigarette dangling from his lips, that strange, mocking ghost of a smile on his lips. He looked up at Kojima, and did nothing to keep the pleading from his voice. _"What…what happened to me…"_

Kojima made a sound that could only be called a _snort, _rolling his eyes to the heavens as he crossed his arms over his chest. "What happened, my lord? Isn't that obvious?"

Jiro shook his head, shook it again and again, couldn't stop shaking it. The world trembled, everything was muffled, distant, far away, like he was in a dream, _only this was no dream, _even Jiro knew that now.

Kojima made that snort again, and sighed. "You know, my lord, I feel sorry for you, I really do. I mean, I hate your guts, too, don't get me wrong; you're the living embodiment of everything that's wrong with the world, always has been, always will be. But…the thing is…I don't think you have all that much control over it. Maybe you were born this way, maybe you were made into this along the way, maybe some of the one, a bit of the other, it doesn't matter. But my heart goes out to you, it really does."

Jiro felt his eyes narrow, though he had no consciousness of doing so. _"You __**have **__no heart,_" he snarled.

Kojima chuckled, rolled his head from side-to-side. "That's more true than you will ever know, my lord. Still…the people have spoken, my lord, the people or the gods or the fates or the _forces of History, _it matters not, really, in the end. What matters is…_it's over._"

Kojima paused, and Jiro watched, spellbound, astonished, as the smile faded from the man's face and Kojima crouched down, tossing his cigarette away before laying a hand on Jiro's shoulder.

Jiro could not bring himself to push it away.

"Look…" There was pain in Kojima's voice now, pain in his words and in his face, and somehow, that frightened Jiro more than anything else. "Listen to me, my lord. You've done a lot of terrible things, and you're going to have to pay the piper before long, make no mistake about it. But you have a chance, right here, right now, to _do the right thing. _What's done is done, you can't do a thing to stop what's already passed you by. So, when who's coming finally arrives, do us all a favor, do _yourself _a favor, and let it go. Throw down your sword, and _let it __**end.**_"

And for a moment, Jiro almost did what he'd been asked to do. He drew out his _katana, _held it in his hands, tilted it to-and-fro, watched the sunlight ripple along the steel. It was a beautiful sword, he had to admit, a beautiful sword looking beautiful on a beautiful day. And wouldn't it be so easy, to just let it go? Throw it at his cousins' feet, make the formal request to commit _seppuku. _They would have to grant it, they who claimed to represent the _true _soul of the Fire Nation, he could see Zuko now, bowing his head, offering to be his _kaishakunin. _They would toss him a _tanto _and he would go to his ancestors the clean, honorable way.

But then, he looked up, and saw that Kojima was gone. He looked up, saw Zuko, his arm in a sling, leaning heavily on that water tribe whore of his, the one who they had said had led the march here with a crown in her hair. She didn't wear the crown now, but it didn't matter. He saw them, saw Azula calmly walking towards him, saw the fire in her eyes, and he just _couldn't do it._

_ It was not in his nature._

He stood, broke his _katana _on his knee, tossed the two halves away. He leveled a finger at his half-cousin, watched Azula come up short, eyes wide, face grim.

He leveled a finger, and said the words.

_"I challenge you to an Agni Kai!"_

Silence fell.

He waited.


	139. LOBSANG VI

LOBSANG

THE RAIN TURNED FROM RANDOM DROPS TO STEADY DRIZZLE, AND STILL, HE RAN.

_My name is Lobsang. My father's name was Kalden. He named me after his father, whom I apparently resembled. Father never told me Mother's name; she died giving birth to me, as happens in this world. It wasn't that Father was cruel; he was not. Life had hardened him, that was all, life and the loss of my mother. I asked him, once, and he tried, oh gods did he try, but it hurt him too much. I didn't ask again, because I loved my father._

The rain was cold, rolling off his bald head and slicing down his back like fingers of ice. He shivered violently as he ran, but still, he ran.

_My name is Lobsang. At twelve, I took my novice's vows. They took away my regular clothes, and from that moment on, I wore only a novice's robes. I swept and cleaned and sat at the feet of monks and nuns and gurus, sat at their feet and learned. I was a natural at languages, progressed up the ladders of the order. There was only one thing I failed at, the final step before they shaved my head and I became a monk._

_ They told me I had to let go._

_ I never could._

The horrid monster of a wall loomed up before them. The drizzle had become a downpour. Lightning split the heavens, and thunder boomed like the rage of an angry god. There was a ringing, a buzzing in his ears, and he dared not look up, look at the finger of white, shimmering and throbbing as if in time to the beating of a heart.

He didn't look, because it hurt. It was the brightest thing he had ever seen.

_Her name was Tsering. She was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. She laughed at all my jokes and tilted her head as she talked to me, tilted her head to the side as she reached up and tucked stray hairs behind her ears. She had a kind heart, big and full, with room for everyone. Even me._

_ I asked Father what he thought of her. He smiled, which was rare, and said that she was a woman worth forsaking monastic vows for._

The rain poured in sheets down the wall, great rivers and streams of ice rolling down from above. They had reached the wall. Toph was screaming, louder than the heavens themselves, and the only thing that surprised Lobsang was that those very heavens were not quivering with fear before her rage. The earth shook, the wall trembled, and if Toph cared that it was not buckling beneath her assault, she did not show it.

_She was better than me, braver. When, on the eve of the final test, we were told that we would have to forsake each other to go on, she didn't even wait for the old grizzled nun to finish speaking before telling her to go to hell. I had to blink a few times before I cracked a smile and muttered, __**Yeah, what she said. **_

_ We went out into the world the next day._

_ To this day, I look for her in the eyes of every woman I meet. Not because I would say anything, but because, well…_

_ It would be nice to know that her next life was kind and free of pain…_

He was attacking the wall. The buzzing grew, and the ringing. Energy crackled through the air, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He shivered and shuddered, and more than once, his staff almost slipped from his fingers.

It didn't, though. He wouldn't let it, couldn't. Toph was there, hurling herself at the wall, and Asami, the sheltered merchant's daughter who hadn't ever even touched a sword six months before, she was on her knees, feet firmly planted in the ground, soaking wet, covered from head-to-toe in mud, holding on to Toph for dear life, keeping Toph on her own feet, keeping her from going flying from Lobsang's wind.

_My name is Lobsang. I made my choice a long time ago._

_ I will never give up, never give in._

_**Never.**_

The wall began to crack.

Lobsang didn't let up for a second.


	140. A GIRL AND A GOD

A GIRL AND A GOD

IN THE END, FOR ALL THE PLANS AND SCHEMES OF MAN AND WOMAN, ALL IT CAME DOWN TO WAS A GIRL, AND A GOD.

Korra was once more in the place that was not a place, but this time, she was not afraid. She stood, shoulders back, chin high, eyes wide and bright and full of hope. Her heart beat, and blood flowed through her veins. She did not know how much of this real and how much was quite the other thing, and she did not care.

She had come.

She had made it.

It was time.

_No more._

_ "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"_

Before her, Raava loomed, massive as a mountain, small as a mouse. Raava loomed, Raava raged. Her face was twisted in ways that no face should have been able to twist, and her voice tore at the very fabric of reality, as much as the word _reality _meant anything there, in that place that was not a place. Raava's form seemed to be coming apart at the seams, in one moment that of the woman Korra had met before, and then, in the blink of an eye, as much as those words meant anything here, she was something else entirely. She was an _it, _a _thing, _beyond the ability of Korra or anyone else to comprehend.

_You were wrong, _she thought, unable to keep the smirk from her face. _You said your true form would only frighten me._

_ You were wrong, about that, and about everything else._

"Isn't it obvious?" Korra said, smiling from ear-to-ear. _Oh gods, Katara, I wish you could see me now. You would be so proud._

_ That's all I've ever wanted, from the first time I laid eyes on you, to make you proud._

_ Today, I will __**earn **__the pride you've always given me._

Raava was shaking its head, or at least, that was the closest Korra could come to describing it. Shaking its head like a crazed animal, about to charge. "I…_I don't understand…"_

Korra sighed. "You never did, but that's not your fault. You _can't _understand, because you're not human. I won't pretend to understand you, and you will stop pretending you understand us. It is time for the world to grow up, to move past its infancy, to choose its own path. For better or worse, it's long past time for us to try to be something _more._"

"No…" Raava was on its knees, or wasn't, because it didn't have knees, Korra was long past caring. "No…_you don't understand…the world needs me, the world needs __**balance…**__"_

"And who determines what _balance _means, hmm? Who makes that call? Some half-human, half-god, so twisted and detached that they've become neither? Some all-powerful semi-divine half-deity, in whose appointment the world has no say? Is _that _peace? Is _that _balance? No, it's tyranny, and it's time it was at an end."

Raava looked up, looked right into Korra's soul.

Korra let it.

She had nothing to hide anymore.

_"You…" _It sounded like it was in pain, gasping, but that didn't make much sense, nothing did in this place. _"You…meant to do this all along…from the very beginning…"_

Korra chuckled. "You know…you might just be on to something there. I might very well have, long before I realized it. Don't get me wrong…I think I would love being the Avatar, granted I had the chance to be the Avatar I wanted to be. All this power? _It's intoxicating. _But that's not what the world needs, is it? Not what it _deserves."_

_ "And what…what does the world __**deserve?**__"_

She looked what into Raava's eyes, or close enough as made no difference.

_"A chance to be **free**."_

And then she took a deep breath, let it out, for all that there was no air in this place that wasn't a place, spread her arms, and said the magic words.

_"No. More."_

They were all there, one after the other, taking her hand, and then each other's, Aang, Roku, Kyoshi, Kuruk, Yangchen, Kobe, and all the rest, on and on and on and _on, _back into the depths of time. They joined hands, and said the words, and for the first time since Korra had met them, they all sounded like themselves.

_They sounded __**human.**_

They lifted up their eyes, opened their souls, and said the words.

_No more._

_**No more.**_

_** NO MORE.**_

_** NO MORE!**_

And then he was there, the first of them all. _Wan. _He stepped out of the light, reached down, took Raava by the hand. She looked human again, _as human as she ever looked, _and Wan smiled, but Raava frowned, as if she did not understand what a smile was.

Wan smiled, and laughed, and was free, and when he said the words, they were in a whisper loud enough to crack the very earth.

_"No more…"_

Korra lifted up her heart and closed her eyes and cried out as she was swallowed by the light.

_No more…_

_ The light…_

_ Toph…_


	141. AZULA VIII

AZULA

"_I CHALLENGE YOU TO AN AGNI KAI!"_

Silence fell, the greatest, most profound silence that Azula had ever known. She stood on the dueling ground, looking into her half-cousin's eyes, eyes that were shrouded in darkness, eyes in which burned the fires of madness and death. She took a deep breath, let it out. Everything fell away, everything stopped. The challenge had been rendered, and now everyone was looking at her, because her brother was hurt and her sister-in-law could not bend fire, which meant that she, and only she, the no-longer Princess Azula, could answer the challenge.

Her heart thumped. Centuries stretched out before her in the space between the beats.

_Agni Kai. _Two of the most dangerous words in the Fire Nation. The ancient duel, going back into the mists of time, so old no one really knew who had started it, its origins shrouded in mystery and legend. _Agni Kai. _It was no longer a duel to the death, but it could be, and Azula was no one's fool, she knew that this duel could only end one way. _Agni Kai. Two will enter, one will leave. Agni Kai. The moment when we give our fates into the hands of the gods._

_ Agni Kai._

And for a moment, during the time between one beat of her heart and another, she wanted to accept the challenge, wanted that more than she had ever wanted anything in her entire life. She did not just think she would win, _she knew it. _Standing before her was a wreck of a man, a hollow, empty shell, cracked and crumbling. This man, this _thing, _had only survived his fight with her brother by sheer luck, and Azula was twice the firebender her brother was, as he would be the first to tell anyone. It would be…

_It would be…_

_ Easy. _That was the word. _Easy. _At a stroke, legal and sanctioned by all the laws and traditions of her Homeland, vengeance would be hers. This _thing _had, with only its words, put Mai on a funeral pyre. It was because of people like that, that her mother was gone, all hopes of reconciliation lost for as long as Azula drew breath in this world. It had orphaned Toph, slaughtered thousands, descended upon the Northern Air Temple with fire and sword and left Ty Lee bleeding out upon cold stone with no friends to hold her hand as she passed. This _thing _didn't just need to die, _it deserved it. _And why shouldn't Azula give her half-cousin his wish? Why shouldn't she?

_Why shouldn't…_

_ She…_

She unclenched her fists, fists she barely remembered making, opened eyes that she didn't remember closing. She let out a pent-up breath, _when did I stop breathing, I don't remember that, _and in a flash of clarity, she knew what she had to do.

_The only thing I can do, really. Because, yes, __**cousin, **__you deserve to die, by my hand as much as anyone's, but I'm better than that. I will not give you the honorable death you seem to be craving. _

_ I will choose the better path. If Asami can become more than what she was born, so can I._

_ It is long past time I said __**no more.**_

"No."

Jiro frowned, lost, confused, like a puppy that'd been kicked one to many times. _"What?" _he croaked.

She just shook her head. "No." She waved the gathered soldiers out of the shadows. "Clap him in irons," she told them, using her _Princess Voice _for what she swore would be the last time. "Give him the strongest bending suppressant you can find, and throw him in the deepest and darkest cell in the city. Let the people decide what to do with him."

Jiro was sputtering, gargling, gagging as if he was being choked, but she didn't care. She was done with him, done with all the vicious little _monsters _of the world.

_It's time for me to go Home. _And with that, she turned on her heel, and walked away.

She wasn't more than ten steps away before she sensed it.

She blinked. _Something is wrong. _She didn't even have the time to process it. She felt heat, a wall of it, not enough to burn, but enough to hurt, to send her tumbling head-over-heels. She hit the ground with a _thump, _pain shooting from one side of her body to the other and back again. The world wavered, went blurry, spun around and around. She blinked, again and again, getting to her feet, trying to move quickly, but it was hard, everything felt so damned _slow, have to get up, have to see what's happening, get up, get up, __**GET UP!**_

And that was when she caught the smell of crackling ozone.

She didn't think so much as once before she moved. It was a moment straight out of her brother's head. In fact, as she leapt through the air towards the oncoming light, that was her last thought.

_Zu-Zu would be proud._

Then, all she saw was the light.


	142. ASAMI VIII

ASAMI

EVERYTHING WAS HAPPENING TOO FAST. Asami tried to wrap her mind around it all, to order what was happening into something that would make even the least amount of sense, but she couldn't. Her mind recoiled, and it was all she could do to just keep Toph upright. Lobsang and Toph hurled themselves at the wall, lightning cracked, fast and furious, thunder rolled, the wind and the rain lashed at them all like the fury of an angry god. Asami could barely see through the water pouring down her face, could barely hear over the ringing, the buzzing in her ears. It was all like something out of the worst kind of nightmare, and she was so afraid that she couldn't even begin to fear.

But still, she held on, because that was the choice she had made. To stand and fight, no matter the consequences, to hold firm, to love her friends and fight for something she believed in.

_To tell the monsters prowling at the door that I'm not afraid of them anymore._

_ That maybe I never was._

The wall was cracking, breaking. A gap opened, barely big enough for a grown man to squeeze through. Lobsang acted fast, began bending air up, holding the falling rocks from the ground. He screamed something, something in Gorkhali, Asami didn't understand, could barely even hear it, but it sounded like, _Go! I'll keep it open! __**GO!**_

Asami didn't think. She didn't have time to think, and lacked the ability anyways. She snatched Toph up off the ground, tucked the girl under her arm, squeezed past Lobsang, and began to run.

To her dying day, Asami would never understand what it was that she saw. Maybe it was something that simply couldn't be comprehended by mortal eyes. She saw white, bright white light, blinding, shimmering, so bright it almost had body and substance to it. She felt like she could reach out and touch the light, mold it, play with it. Korra was floating, up and up, mouth open, eyes slack. Something was coming out of her, something that wasn't human, something of immense power. The buzzing grew, the buzzing and the ringing, it made her bones vibrate and her blood quake and her soul curl up and run for cover.

She couldn't understand it, couldn't comprehend it, so she shut her mind and decided to attempt neither. She ran, ever closer, Korra was almost there, Asami knew she could never reach the girl, no matter how far she stretched her arms, and for a moment, a brief, haunting moment, she lost all hope, her heart fell into her feet and down into the ground and beyond and she just wanted to drop to her knees and let whatever power was being unleashed and torn apart do with her what it willed.

But then she remembered who she was carrying under her arm, and knew what she had to do. It was all so simple that she almost burst into hysterical laughter.

She didn't do that, though. Instead, she smiled, and looked into the light.

_My name is Asami, of the family Sato. I stand before gods and friends, and ask you to look, and see. Look, and watch what was once a scared little girl can do._

She drew back her arms.

_Mai, Ty, Mako, this is for you._

She flung Toph up into the air, and only then did she laugh.

_Banzai._


	143. KATARA IX

KATARA

EVERYTHING HAPPENED IN AN INSTANT, AND YET, THAT INSTANT LASTED FOR TEN-THOUSAND YEARS. Time slowed to a crawl, slowed and frayed and shredded and lost all meaning. Matsuura screamed like a wounded animal, and then he clapped his hands together and flung them apart and men were flying, flying and yelling and hitting and rolling across the ground. How she stayed on her feet, she would never know. Her eyes flicked about, watched everything unfold, so slow, so _agonizingly slow. _Zuko had been flung to the ground, Zuko and Azula and all the rest. Only one man stood.

Only one man, whose mad, wild eyes were locked on her. His lips spread into a vicious, inhuman grin. He bellowed and howled and then his hands began to move and all there was, was the crackle of the gathering lightning and the ringing in her ears.

Katara watched, spellbound, as the lightning began to dance, as the mad beast before her flung the shimmering, sparkling light towards her. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her doom approached, but she was not afraid. After all, how could she be afraid?

_My name is Katara. My father is Hakoda, my mother Kya. My brother is Sokka, and the daughter of my soul is Korra. The number of my friends defies the counting. My husband, the man of my dreams, is Zuko, and his sister is Azula. There's Toph and Mai and Ty and Asami and Lobsang and Suki and all the rest all of them, they would not want me to be afraid, and so I shall not be._

The lightning came closer, the ringing rising to a deafening squeal in her ears. She began to move, in the form that they had practiced, her husband and her sister-in-law and her, back on the deck of their ship, it seemed like so long ago, it seemed like almost yesterday.

_My name is Katara. I have defied the limits that others would place upon me at every turn. I have stood before princes and generals and soldiers and thugs and fiends and beaten them all. I trained an Avatar and found a daughter. I looked a god in the eye and made it blink._

The light came ever closer. She could feel the heat in the depths of her soul. She took a deep breath, let it out.

_My name is Katara. Come for me. I will not be afraid._

_ Not because I can't feel fear, but because I choose not to._

Something boomed, as loud as the end of the world. She did not understand it, blinked, again and again and again. She didn't know what happened. The light was gone, the light and the smell of air burning. She blinked, looked down, and watched as her sister-in-law writhed on the ground, electricity crackling in spurts and sparks from her body.

_No…_

She would never know if she was the one who said it, her or Zuko or both. Zuko was on the ground, was pulling his sister to him, fire was in his hand. Matsuura was laughing, laughing like a loon. There was nothing in his eyes, no sense and no soul and no humanity.

Her heart thumped, and thumped again, and in the space between the beats, she saw it all, saw the pain and the fear and the suffering, the horror unleashed upon a world a hundred years before by a madman who thought the world was his to play with. A madman…

Her eyes locked on Matsuura. _A madman like the one standing before me._

She didn't think about it, didn't hesitate. She knew that she would never truly be able to go home again, but she didn't care. She reached out her hand, her fingers moving like the legs of a demented spider. The laughter was choked off in Matsuura's throat, and his eyes went wide and his face went pale and Katara watched as he finally learned what fear was. She reached out, stretched her soul into his body, felt the blood and muscles and sinews and bones. She touched it all, searching, wondering if this _thing _had a heart.

Her heart thumped one more time, just as she found that the thing's heart did, indeed, exist, and allowed herself a moment of surprise at the discovery before she crushed it in the beast's chest. She let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding, watched as what little life there was drained from Matsuura's eyes, watched him fall to his knees and slump to the ground. His lips mouthed a word, what it was, she didn't know, never would, and didn't care.

He died, and it was well and truly over. She allowed herself another final, ragged breath, then ran to Azula, saw that she was still alive, and began to try and save her.

_My name is Katara. I will not lose, not because I can't, but because I choose not to._

She pulled the water from the gutters surrounding the dueling ground and formed glowing gloves of frigid warmth around her hands.

_My name is Katara. I love my husband. I will not let him lose the last blood-family he has._

_ My name is Katara, and I will never turn my back on those who need me._

She pressed her hands to the smoking wound in Azula's chest, and got to work.


	144. TOPH VIII

TOPH

THE WORLD HAD GONE WHITE. All her life, Toph's world had been defined by darkness, endless, shimmering darkness threaded with the hazy glowing outlines of what her heightened senses found for her. She had never known blue or green or red or even black, because her world wasn't black, just dark.

But now, at what felt like the end of the world, as Asami hurled her into the void, she discovered what it was to be bathed and swallowed by white.

_Mother, help me…_

She reached out, stretched her arms until they ached and her shoulders burned and she could not stretch herself anymore, and then promptly did so.

_Father, help me…_

She flew and flew. The world shuddered and shook, and the white trembled and pulsed. All she could hear was the ringing, the ringing in her ears, in her blood, in her bones, _in her heart._

_ People of Gaoling, help me…_

She hit something, something that she knew was Korra, _her Korra, __**my Korra. **_Everything was a wet, sodden mess, and the rain wouldn't stop falling and the white was searing in its fiery chill and she was losing her grip no way would she get another shot _no I won't let go I can't I can't and I won't not now not __**ever you hear me girl NOT EVER!**_

She had her, she had Korra. She wrapped her arms tight, ignored the pain of the ringing in her ears, the pain and the fury of whatever had been unleashed. Everything was white and everything was light and she couldn't hold on but she had to and she did. She held on but she couldn't do anything, she pulled and she screamed and she cried out so many names, her mother's and her father's and her friends' and her people's, begged them all for strength, and then she started on the gods and begged them, too, but it wasn't enough, they were floating higher and higher _and higher…_

_ Korra, help me…_

_ Don't leave me…_

_ Somebody, please, help me…_

Then she felt someone take hold of her ankles, take hold and pull down, and she knew it was Asami. Asami was pulling her down and Toph pulled with her and something not human was bellowing in anger and rage and fear and then something snapped and it didn't _sound _like the end of the world, it _was _the end of the world and then they were falling…

_Falling…_

They tumbled to the ground, hit with a hard _thump. _She thought about the Fire Lord, but didn't have time to do more than that. She reached into the earth, dug out a deep pit. The ringing in her ears was growing. It was so loud it hurt. She didn't know what was going on. All she saw was white, though she didn't know what that was, still didn't know what it meant. She grabbed Asami and Korra, dove with them into the pit, tumbled down. She grabbed the earth. Everything was shaking. The ringing went on. She couldn't hear, couldn't think, couldn't sense. All she had was the earth, and Asami, and Korra, _her Korra, she never stopped being my Korra, she was my Korra all along. _They dove into the earth, and she pulled the earth up over them. The white was gone. The ringing rose and rose and rose and it hurt _oh gods it hurts make it stop I can't make it stop this is how the world ends but I don't care because I'm not alone I was never alone and-_

Silence.

Darkness.

Someone spoke.

It sounded like her.

_I love you, Korra._

_ Don't leave me._

_ Please._

She knew no more.

* * *

So, you know, _that happened. _And what, exactly, happened?

The climax happened, that's what. I told you it'd kick all the ass.

And, because I'm mean, that's where I'm leaving you today. Enjoy your evening, and see you tomorrow!

Because, in the next chapter, _stuff. _Stay tuned!


	145. EMBERS

EMBERS

AZULA WOKE TO THE SOUND OF SOMEONE CALLING HER NAME.

For a moment, she was terribly confused. She screwed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of nose. There was a faint sensation of burning, a terrible, soul-splitting burning, deep in her heart. She saw lightning flash towards a dark-skinned girl with eyes of blue, and her brother with half-a-face and one eye dead and white. She heard a monster cackling and felt the wind in her hair as she flew and-

_"For the love of the gods, Zula, get off your lazy behind and get a move on!"_

Her eyes flew open, and her head whipped around like a spinning top. With a shock, she realized she was on the shore, at Ember Island, at her special place, the sliver of beach that was closed in by steep hills and rocks. She looked down, realized that she was on a rock, _her special rock. _It was big and flat and always warm but never hot, and it had room for several people to stretch out on it. She remembered her and Mai and Ty giggling and laughing, and the grudging compliment she had given Zuko when he had found the place one summer when they were children.

She turned to the hill at her back, and shielded her eyes from the low-hanging midday sun. A smile spread across her face, because Ty was there, Ty was waving at her and jumping up and down, and next to her was the tall, willowy form of Mai, inspecting her fingernails and looking bored, and Asami, too, joining Ty in the waving, though definitely not jumping up and down, only Ty did things like that.

Azula let out the breath she had been holding, and almost cried for joy.

_A dream, all a dream, it was only a dream…_

_ Only a dream…_

She ran up to her friends, and hugged them all fiercely, so fiercely, she couldn't let go, it was the most wonderful moment of her life, a relief after that horrid dream of blood and darkness and pain. They all blinked in confusion, but then they were all hugging her back, and they were together, giggling like happy little girls at their first Fire Festival, and all was right with the world.

They walked back to the house, the Royal Family's vacation home, arm-in-arm, laughing and giggling and all but skipping, even Mai was not immune, and how could she be on a day like this? It was beautiful and peaceful, the grass and the trees rippling in the soft summer breeze, and it was the most lovely thing Azula had ever experienced, and she never wanted it to end.

She laughed at herself more than a few times. This was totally unlike her, wasn't it? To get so worked up, to get all moody and emotional and light-headed, all over some stupid little _dream? _It was silly, and Azula wasn't a silly girl, a silly _anything, _really…

_But hey, _she thought to herself, smiling up at the sun, _we all have our moments, right?_

She didn't wait for the sun to give her an answer, because she knew she was utterly correct, and there was nothing anyone could say to gainsay her.

It only got better when they reached the back veranda of the house, the veranda that looked out over the sea. There was a table set up, and cushions on the floor, and the table itself was thick with snacks and steaming tea and bottles of spiced wine. Rising from the table was her sister-in-law, the chief's daughter from the bottom of the world, and she looked just as beautiful as ever. Katara's arms went wide and Azula threw herself into them, and they hugged and kissed each other on both cheeks and Azula didn't even bother to roll her eyes when Ty bent down to touch Katara's growing belly and gush and coo. No, instead, Azula joined her, and everyone was laughing and it was incredible…

_Incredible…_

Zuko was there, stepping out onto the veranda, taking her by surprise and swinging her around and around and she squealed like she was five again. He looked resplendent in his uniform, like he always did, and he was happy and healthy and had both sides of his face, both sides and both eyes. _Sure, _he complained, _he was bored, serving as the military attaché at the embassy in Iqaluit, but hey, it's fun watching Katara put the other wives in their places, and he'd be back in a unit again before too long, and Katara was __**so **__looking forward to that, she was practically salivating at having an entire __**company **__to make dance to her tune._

Everyone else was spilling out of the house, Sokka, who took her in both his arms, she didn't know why that made her blink, but it didn't matter, she forgot about it as soon as he shot her a sly wink and they both pretended no one else could see. Then Sokka and Katara's little sister came running out, Korra, such a smart, sweet girl, and her _friend, _the way Korra said that word still made Azula roll her eyes, the rambunctious blind girl named Toph, who was full of news about the earthbending academy that her parents had helped her found in Gaoling, and then Suki was there, happy and free as a bird, and everything was good and perfect and Azula couldn't stop smiling and-

_"Ahem, my lady?"_

Azula turned, found a servant bowing before her. Azula pushed up and away from the table and returned the bow. _"Yes?"_

The servant dipped his head. _"Your lady mother wishes to speak with you privately, my lady."_

Azula frowned. _"Privately?" _She turned to her brother, rolled her eyes. _"What's Mother plotting this time? Katara? Are you in on this?"_

Zuko looked lost, _as usual, _but Katara didn't seem enlightened, either. She shook her head and shrugged. _"You guess is as good as mine," _Katara said. _"If anything, __**you're **__the one who'll be plotting with her, on account of this." _She patted her ever-growing belly, and Azula had to nod and admit that this was probably the truth.

Azula turned back to the servant, and waved towards the house. _"Lead the way, if you don't mind."_

And then she was walking into the house and down the halls and the servant opened the door and closed it behind her and her mother stood before her.

All at once, Azula wanted to cry. She wanted to throw herself into her mother's arms and sob like a little baby, sob until her ribs cracked from the heaving, sob until she threw up and then sob some more. She just wanted to hold her mother tight and be held just as tightly right back, and it scared her that she didn't have the least idea why.

_The least idea…_

_ Why…_

Her mother sighed, and Azula was confused, because her mother looked so sad, so very, very _sad. _Then her mother smiled, and Azula's heart broke, though she still didn't know why.

_"Yes, my daughter, you know very well why."_

Azula shook her head. Images flashed before her eyes, people dying and blood in the streets and heartbreak and pain and the fist of light and fire slamming into her chest and sending her plunging into a blood-red darkness. _"No, I don't, everything's perfect, why would I feel sad?"_

Her mother was before her, cupping Azula's face, brushing tears Azula didn't know she was shedding from her eyes. _"Oh, my sweet, wonderful, amazing, beautiful daughter. I love you very, very much. You know that?"_

Azula nodded. She laid her hand atop the one her mother was cupping her face in, and the tears were rolling and she still didn't know why, even though she knew this wasn't true, _not true at all._

_ "Yes," _Azula choked out through her tears, _"I know, I've always known. I'm sorry I didn't always show that, didn't let myself show that, I was so angry sometimes, so angry and-"_

Her mother laid a finger gently on Azula's lips, leaned forward, kissed her softly on the forehead. _"It's alright, dear heart. I understand. You had every reason to be angry with me. You must never blame yourself for the consequences of my mistakes."_

Azula was shaking her head, her eyes clamped shut, trying desperately not to cry, trying and failing. She wanted to speak, wanted to fall to her knees and babble so many words, say that she never hated her mother, she always loved her, she understood now, she saw, that she was sorry, _so sorry, so very, very sorry…_

_ "Shh," _her mother said, cupping a hand to Azula's other cheek, still brushing the tears away with her thumbs,_ "it's alright. I know, I always knew. You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm your mother, and I always have, and always will, love you, love you more than I could ever say. Just promise me this: That you will never forget, you or your brother both, that everything I ever did, I did for the both of you. Promise me that?"_

Azula nodded, opened her eyes, smiled through her tears. _"I promise. I love you, Mom."_

Her mother giggled like a little girl, her eyes sparkling like the stars on a cool spring night. _"I know. I love you, too, Zula. Now, do your mother proud, and wake up."_

And so, Azula smiled, kissed her mother on both cheeks, and, for once in her life, did exactly as she was told.

She woke up.

She opened her eyes on a quiet room, a light rain pattering on the roof above her. She opened her eyes, to find her brother holding one hand, her sister-in-law holding the other, both of them sound asleep. She didn't wake them up; she was sure they needed it. Instead, she gave their hands a squeeze, laid her head back upon the soft, cool pillow, and listened to the rain.

There would be days, in the years to come, when she would wonder why she had decided to wake up. She never came up with a truly satisfactory answer.

That doesn't mean she ever regretted her choice, though.

Because she didn't.

* * *

Good morning, everyone! We are in the home stretch here in Ro4N-land, and as a result, to kick off the _denouement, _I have, naturally, decided to dropkick you right in the feels.

Hope you don't mind.

So, did everyone enjoy the final climax? I really hope you did. Upwards of a year of work has gone into this story, and while a lot has changed over the writing of it, the way I was going to end it was never in doubt. Sure, details got tweaked along the way (for example, I didn't have Asami in this until I began writing Book Two, which, Jesus Christ, guys, can you even imagine? One of this story's best characters, and she almost didn't even make it in. Shame on me), but the overall ending was always there.

And now it's happened, and I'm very, very happy with how it turned out.

For those playing the home game, my wife's summative evaluation went amazingly well, and she got her contract renewed, because of course she is. So, if any of you guys sent good thoughts her way, her and I thank you both. And not only did my wife get showered with professional compliments and got to keep her job, but she finished her final paper for her current grad class, and it was amazing. I was floored, and not just because I'm married to her and I think she's perfect in any way.

Is that enough bragging about how proud I am of my wife? Probably, at least, you guys are probably sick of it. I'm not. MY WIFE IS AWESOME AND I LOVE HER! WOO!

But enough about that. For today, this will be the only chapter; the rest will be posted over tomorrow and Friday, when we'll have a final wrap-up, an epic amount of feels, and then this will be done and I will be, like, that strange combination of super-bummed and outrageously-stoked for a week or so.

I'm looking forward to it.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Asami remembers her promise. Stay tuned!


	146. BOLIN VI

BOLIN

THE DOOR OPENED PROMPTLY AFTER HIS KNOCK, AND FOR A MOMENT, BOLIN COULDN'T REMEMBER WHAT HE'D COME THERE TO DO. He had had it all planned out, every step, every word. It had all seemed so simple, all the way here. The rebel army had been disbanded, those who wished to go home free to do so, though who wished to stay in arms being inducted into a new, organized _Federal Army, _as the people of the former Earth Kingdom began to put their lives together and figure out where to go from here. Bolin had considered staying under the banners, but, at the end of the day, he had had enough of uniforms. It was a whole new world out there, a world free of Emperors and Fire Lords and even Avatars, and he wanted to be a part of it.

Which was why he was here, at the Ch'en house, preparing to do something that was either very sweet, or very stupid. It had all made sense at the time, too. _Hey, Jin, I'm heading back to Yu Dao, to see if there's anything left, to try to find my brother. I…heh…I really like you, and after the past few months, you seem to really like me, so I was wondering if you wanted to come, see my hometown. If you like it, we can stay, and if you don't, we can come right back, and either way, we decide what we want to do from there. It's all up to you, of course, but…I mean…hey…like I said…heh…_

Bolin had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Even in his head, he tended to end up spluttering and stammering like a fool. _Mako would get a kick out of this, I know he would._

_Idiot. You __**better **__be okay._

And then the door opened and Jin's father was standing there and what little plan Bolin had left flew from his head. Even the flowers he had in his hand seemed to have suddenly become wilted and shabby-looking. He opened his mouth, closed it, tugged at the collar of his shirt, and finally managed to speak.

Bowing, he said, "Good afternoon, Ch'en-san," he winced at that, but Earth Kingdom honorifics still confused him, so he pressed on, "how are you today?"

Jin's father smiled and returned the bow, Bolin thanking the gods and his ancestors, not for the first time, that the man seemed to have taken a shine to him. "Good afternoon yourself, young man. And might I say, your Putonghua has improved considerably."

Bolin fought down a blush. "Thank you, sir. Your daughter is an excellent teacher."

Ch'en-san rolled his eyes. "_Uh huh. _Please, come on in; you still intend to ask my daughter what we talked about?"

Bolin nodded, struggling to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants without calling attention to doing so. "Yes, sir, if it's still alright with you."

Ch'en-san sighed, but in the end, nodded. "It is. I talked it over with my wife, and we've decided that Jin could do worse, and besides, she always wanted to see what the world was like outside of the City. So, yes, you may ask; the decision is up to her."

Bolin gave a quick bow. "A thousand thanks, Ch'en-san." He rose, tilted his head, heard an unfamiliar voice. "Is someone here? Am I interrupting?"

Ch'en-san shook his head as he led Bolin into the main room of the house. "I shouldn't think so. During the fighting, as you know, Jin helped the Avatar's companions infiltrate the Inner City, and two of them, a young Fire Nation lady and a former Kyoshi Warrior, if you can believe it, are here thanking her."

Bolin tried not to blanche, he really did; he was already nervous enough, he didn't need an audience. "Oh…um…I can come back."

Ch'en-san rolled his eyes. "Nonsense! Now or never, young man; fortune favors the bold." And with that, the man shoved Bolin into the room.

The scene that greeted Bolin was strange in its normality. Clustered around the dining table was Jin, and the two ladies her father had mentioned, one definitely Fire Nation, one definitely Earth Kingdom. Bolin looked around for Jin's mother, heard some sounds from the kitchen, and decided that Ch'en-san was right, might as well press on. He gave a very deep, very polite bow, and said, in his steadily improving Putonghua, "Good afternoon, my ladies."

They all stood and returned the bow, then Jin stepped forward, a sparkle in her eyes, as if she knew _exactly _what Bolin was there to do, and pecked him on both cheeks. "Welcome, Bolin! I hadn't expected you. And what lovely flowers!" Her face lit up as he gave the flowers to her. She pressed her nose into them, took a big, deep whiff, and sighed. "They're wonderful; they're going in our best vase."

Bolin didn't even bother to stop the blush this time as he rubbed his neck. "Aww, you don't have to lie to me, Jin…"

Jin rolled her eyes and swatted him on the arm. "Hush, you. Oh! And before I forget, these are the two girls I was talking to you about. This is Sato Asami," she gestured at the Fire Nation girl, who was, Bolin had to admit, very beautiful, obviously well-born, "and Loeng Suki," this to the Earth Kingdom girl, who had an arm hanging loosely in a sling, and seemed slightly uncomfortable on her feet.

Bolin gave them both two quick, shallow bows, which they returned. "A pleasure to meet you, ladies. I'm Torihada Bolin, late of the armies of the Earth Kingdom. I hope you…are…um…are you alright, my lady?"

Before his very eyes, the girl called Asami had turned pale as a sheet. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she swayed, as if she was about to pass out. The girl called Suki swooped to her rescue, putting her good arm around Asami and helping her back into her chair.

Bolin stared, confused, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Then Asami spoke, in cultured, refined Nihongo, though it lacked the flattened drawl of the noble-born. "You are…Torihada Bolin, you said?"

He nodded, his confusion deepening, along with a sense that he didn't really want the confusion to be dispelled. "I am, my lady."

Tears sprang up in her eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice trembled and shook. "Do you…is your older brother's name Mako? Are you from…from Yu Dao?"

Bolin felt a rushing in his ears, and he wanted nothing so much as to turn on his heel and bolt back out the way he had come. "I…yes, my lady, that's true. Why…_why do you want to know?"_

She took a deep, tear-soaked breath, and the tears began to fall in earnest, and the girl called Suki was holding her close, and Jin had a death grip on his hand, and he had a death grip on hers.

"I…" She chewed on her bottom lip for a bit, nodded, and tried again. "I…I think you should sit down…"

He took one look into her eyes, and did as he was told.

It was another two months until he made it to the Northern Air Temple, and another month after that until he made it to Yu Dao. He stood before what remained of his childhood home, cradling his brother's urn in his hands. The city had suffered a siege the winter before, during the chaotic fighting in the area between mutineers and loyalists. It was all over now, and the rebuilding had already begun, but the scars remained…

_And those scars included his home…_

Jin threaded an arm through his, leaned her head on his shoulder. "You brother was a good man, Bolin."

Bolin nodded, voice thick, throat tight, tears in his eyes. He sniffed, and kissed the top of her head. "Yes, he was. Better than even he knew. I'm…I'm glad he realized that, in the end." He sighed, and his voice dropped even lower than before. _"I always knew he was a hero…"_

Jin sighed, tilted her head, kissed his cheek, settled herself back upon his shoulder. "I think we should rebuild the house."

He smiled. "You do?"

"I do. Under one condition."

"Name it, and it's yours."

"I spotted a nice temple just around the corner, on the way here."

He smiled, cradling his brother's urn under one arm as he wrapped the other around her waist. "Oh? And what would you want to do there?"

She scoffed, and he just _knew _she was rolling her eyes. "What do you think?"

It was, Bolin thought, a lovely little ceremony. He made sure his brother had the best seat in the house, and felt hopeful and content as he kissed Jin before his ancestors and the gods and stepped with her into a brave new world.

* * *

What? It's the end of a three-part epic; you really think I was going to stint on the feels? If you thought that, you don't know me.

For those playing the home game, what we like to think of as _traditional marriage _has never been...well..._traditional. _Once upon a time, the vast majority of people were too poor and/or too isolated to even _have _what we would call a _wedding_; shit, _back in the day, _people used to have to wait for traveling priests to come around to their village to perform the rites, even though they could have been living together as man-and-wife (or other combinations, which have never been as unusual as modern-day conservatives like to pretend) for a year or more. What I'm saying is, what happened here was once quite common.

Also, poor Bolin. Like I said before, _prepare, for I shall be wailing on the Button o'Feels. _Speaking of the Button o'Feels...fuck you, Ward. Just...fuck you. *sighs*

Yes, the wife and I finished the first season of _Agents of SHIELD. _Just... *sigh*

Moving on! In the next chapter..._feels!_


	147. YOSHIHITO

YOSHIHITO

IT WAS DONE. The prayers had been said, the rituals performed. His mother had given him a wonderful farewell banquet, and though her eyes had been red-rimmed and glassy throughout, it had been one of the best nights of his life. He had laughed and stuffed himself full of food and drank to his heart's content. His wife had not come, but he had not expected her to, and if she never told his son that he had ever existed, Yoshihito would not blame her. _Better that I just fade into the annals of history, and finally do my father proud._

That was the only thing that marred the otherwise perfect symmetry of his day. His father had been old and not as healthy as he once was, and the heart of the man named Iroh had simply not survived either the shock of losing his bending, nor the power unleashed when the Avatar tore her own power from within and broke the Cycle for all time. Everything else had been nice, the dinner, the weather, his sisters hugging and kissing him goodbye (_even Natsumi, who, to his surprise, looked a bit sad at their parting_), but he still would've liked for his father to have been there.

_At least he's here in spirit, _he thought, looking up at the sky, _in spirit, and, in a way, in person. _At that, he glanced over at a little table, upon which his father's ashes rested, surrounded by burning incense sticks.

_I just pray that I've finally made you proud, Father._

_ I just pray that I finally did something __**right.**_

Which left only one more thing to do.

He looked to the young man before him, the young man with half-a-face. Yoshihito bowed to the man, and the man bowed back.

"I can never thank you enough for agreeing to do this, Zuko."

Zuko's mouth quirked in a sad little smile. "No need to thank me, cousin. After what you did, that final day, it's the least I can do."

Yoshihito chuckled at that; he couldn't help it. "I'm not sure if that was a compliment or an insult, cousin."

Zuko shrugged. "A bit of both, I think."

Yoshihito nodded and sighed. "Fair enough." He reached out, took up the _tanto, _pressed the tip against his stomach. "Well, cousin, it is time. I don't ask you to forgive me; I don't have that right. I just ask, as my final wish, that you strike fast, and strike true."

Zuko nodded, and stood, drawing out his _katana _and holding it out for Azula to step from the shadows and pour water along the blade, ritually purifying it. Zuko gave it a flick or two, then assumed the final position. "Have no worries on that account, cousin. And, for what it's worth…I'll never like you, but I will forgive you."

Yoshihito closed his eyes and smiled. "I thank you for the lie, cousin, I really do." And he meant every word.

Zuko chuckled. "As you say, Yoshihito. When would you like me to strike?"

"After the third cut, of course."

He heard the frown in his cousin's voice. "Are you sure?"

Yoshihito's smile grew. "More than I've ever been sure of anything, cousin. Farewell. Gods be with you."

"And also with you."

And, with that done, Yoshihito shoved the _tanto _into his stomach, pulled it across, turned it, pulled it up, turned it one final time, and made the final cut, whereupon he stretched out his neck and let the darkness take him.

To his eternal surprise, it didn't even hurt.

* * *

One of the things I like about Catholicism (and please, no comments on all the things wrong with the Church; that's a whole other story for a whole other day) is the teaching that everyone deserves a shot at redemption, and that we make our own fates. We always have a choice, and Yoshihito made his. He got his chance to die with what his people would consider honor, which he knew was more than he deserved, and he took it.

Does Zuko really forgive him? I doubt it. But every culture, no matter how diverse, believes that when someone's dead, they're dead, and it's never worthwhile to speak ill of them. So, Zuko's being a good guy, and helping his cousin take what their people believe is the honorable way out, and making things a bit easier for him before he goes.

Do I forgive Yoshihito? No, I don't. If there's truly an afterlife, Yoshihito will be paying for his sins in spades for a long, long time. I think he knows that.

Moving on! In the next chapter..._more feels!_


	148. TOM-TOM

TOM-TOM

ARINORI ODA WAITED AS LONG AS HE COULD, BUT, IN THE END, THE MANNERS HIS PARENTS AND HIS UPBRINGING HAD DRILLED INTO HIM WON OUT. Taking a long, deep breath, he rapped lightly on what was once his sister's door, slid it open, and walked in.

It still left him stunned and bewildered, every time he stepped into that room. After the bodies had been removed and bloodstains scrubbed out, his mother had endured a total and complete breakdown. At her frenzied insistence, everything had been returned to just the way Mai had liked it, right down to the things of Ty Lee's that were always stashed around the room. The only change was that, in the center of the room, between two large windows, there now rested an elaborate shrine, the best money could buy, where his sister's urn rested beneath an expensive portrait of her, everything seemingly shielded by a wall of ever-burning incense sticks.

It felt like a tomb. He hated it, mostly because his sister would've hated it. Despite that, he never argued with his mother, and visited the room three times a day to keep the incense sticks fresh.

He stepped up to the shrine, clapped his hands, bowed and rose three times, and said the ritual prayers for the departed. Then, he moved to the front of the people who had come to pay their respects, and bowed once more.

"My ladies, my lord," he said, dipping his head first to all of them in turn, Azula, Asami, Zuko, and Zuko's wife, who had her arm threaded through his and whose name Oda just couldn't seem to keep straight in his head. "I don't want to interrupt, but…" He sighed, and struggled not to shift his weight or do anything else that might be construed as awkward. "I just…I just wanted to apologize for my mother's behavior, and to ask if any of you required any refreshment."

For what felt like a long time, no one spoke, or even looked at him. All of their eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and not, he suspected, from the incense. They were all dressed in their finest formal attire, and yet, they all looked exhausted, worn out, bedraggled, Azula worst of all; she still walked with great care, requiring assistance, and her cheek was still marked from where his lady mother had slapped her before bursting into tears and running to her rooms.

Oda winced at the sight. _She didn't even try to dodge the slap. One of the deadliest women in the world, and she didn't even blink._

Finally, it was Zuko's wife who spoke, in surprisingly good Nihongo that was choked with grief. "It's quite alright, Arinori-san. We won't trouble you too much longer."

He tried his best to smile, and bowed. "You're not bothering anyone, my lady. My mother is just…you understand, it's been very painful. And…look…you were all her friends, in one way or another. You can all stay as long as you like." He looked over to Azula, wanting to make a more personal apology, when his eyes caught sight of something odd.

His sister's urn was no longer alone. Beside it rested the most ridiculous-looking funeral urn he had ever seen, painted bright pink and covered with characters written in a girlish font.

It was very hard not to laugh. _How utterly appropriate. _He turned back to Zuko's wife, whose name he really wished he could remember, or at least say correctly, and bowed his head. "Is that…is that Ty Lee's urn?"

Zuko's wife smiled. "It is. We took it to her family, but they insisted that we bring it to wherever Mai was. They said that was where Ty would want to be." She frowned, and cast a quick worried look to the others. "You…you and your family won't mind, will you?"

Oda shook his head, and didn't have to work for his smile now. "Not in the least. It will gladden all of our hearts, to know that my sister is not alone, even here."

Zuko's wife smiled and bowed her head. "Thank you, Arinori-san."

He shrugged. "No thanks are needed. As I said, take as long as you like." Then, he bowed, first to them, then to his sister, and left to tell his mother that Ty Lee had joined his sister upon her shrine.

It was the first time he had seen his mother smile since it happened. She brightened so much, that she invited their guests to eat dinner with the family, and spent the entire night apologizing to an embarrassed Azula.

* * *

Like I said: _Feels. _That one was..._ugh. _I got some feels from that.

Moving on!


	149. THE WATER MASTER IV

THE WATER MASTER

SADLY, PAKKU COULD NOT SAY THAT HE WAS SURPRISED WHEN HIS DOOR FLEW OPEN AND KANNA'S GRANDSON CAME ROLLING IN, WHOOPING AND HOLLERING WITH GLEE. Resigned? Definitely. Annoyed? Well, he _did _have a lot of work to do, as what was being called the _Summit of the Four Nations _approached, at which, if all went well, the shape of their new world could be laid out quickly, efficiently, and peacefully. He had little hope for the first two, but as for the third, well…

_We've all had enough of war. It's time to give peace a chance._

Not that that changed his low opinion of how Sokka was not only performing what he insisted on calling _wheelies _in the middle of his borrowed office in the former Imperial Palace of Ba Sing Se, but was also _giggling _while tilting dangerously back to do it. But by now, Pakku knew better than to try to reason with the young man, and instead set down his pen and waited it out.

It wasn't long; it just felt that way.

Finally, his enthusiasm for the moment spent, Sokka let his wheelchair plop down and sit as it was designed to do, a big wide grin on his face that could only be described as _goofy. _"You know," Sokka said, wiping his brow and giggling, "I'm going to be a bit bummed when my legs are all healed up. This thing is _way _too much fun."

Pakku nodded gravely. "That's one way to describe it."

Sokka rolled his eyes and shot Pakku a _look _that reminded the old man uncomfortably of the boy's sister. _Which is the last thing I need; I really did fear for my life, when she finally came to check on her brother. _"You've really got to lighten up, Pakku. It'll do you a world of good."

Pakku spread his hands, encompassing the piles of papers on his desk. "What will do me a world of good is for this summit to be over and done with."

Sokka shrugged, holding up the stump of his left arm to flap it in the air. "Come on, Pakku, it's not _that _bad."

Pakku pinched the bridge of his nose. _Gods help me. _"Well, I certainly hope not. Still…" He sighed, and did his best to look serious, which was hard, what with his present company. "Have you come to a decision yet?"

"I have, as a matter of fact. I have come to the definite conclusion that, when I get my new arm, it's going to have flames painted on it. I'm going to make my brother-in-law paint them, too, just to watch him squirm. Katara's all in on the idea."

Pakku rolled his eyes. "Must you torment the poor boy? He's been through enough."

"True," Sokka admitted with a roll of his head, "but hey, he married my sister, who gave me a very short grace period in which to haze him. I've gotta make it count."

Pakku had to give that an approving nod. "Fair enough. Though, that's not the decision I was talking about…"

Sokka scoffed. "Well, _duh, _and to answer your question, I have, indeed, made a decision about that."

Pakku tried very, very hard to keep the nervous excitement he felt from showing in either his voice or his expression. "And…?"

"Well," Sokka began, tapping his stump against his chin, "the thing is…it's an awesome offer, don't get me wrong, and it'd be all _kinds _of awesome to be able to make people bow down to me…but, the thing is, I have to talk to my girlfriend about it."

"Actually," Pakku replied, "the former Princess Azula is not at _all _an obstacle. It would be a great match, truth be told, and an excellent way of signaling a new direction for the world."

"True…and she'd make a pretty kickass queen…that said, though, it'd be pretty shitty of me to ask her to become a queen after she toppled a throne in her homeland, and besides, we've still got a ways to go before we reach talk of _marriage. _It'll be up to her, in the end."

Pakku grinned from ear-to-ear, and did nothing to stop it. "So, you've decided to accept the crown?"

Sokka made a strange little face, still tapping his stump to his chin, "Yeah, about that…" And then, before Pakku even knew what was happening, the boy had spun his wheelchair around and was making for the door. "Let's table that as an open-action item and come back to it after the New Year!" Sokka called over his shoulder, and with that, before Pakku could even _try _to stop him, the boy was gone.

Pakku would've liked to say he was angry; he knew he should've been.

As it was, though, he just couldn't stop smiling.

* * *

You just know that, if Sokka had access to a wheelchair, nothing good would come of it. Also, how does he work a wheelchair with one arm? Well, odd as it may seem, that's a problem wheelchair designers have addressed. If I understand it correctly, what it comes down to is linking the wheel that doesn't have a hand to operate it to the wheel that does, so you only need one hand to move about. If they can figure that out today, I can promise you that they figured it out ages ago. After all, wheelchairs are nothing new, and people have been living without a limb or three since the dawn of time.

What's Sokka's decision going to be? Well, about that...

MOVING ON!


	150. THE PLAYERS

THE PLAYERS

YAKUSHO KOJI WAS IN A BIT OF A BAD MOOD AS HE STORMED TOWARDS HIS OFFICE. Even on the best of days, running the Ember Island Players – a theater troupe who, in spite of their well-known lack of skill, hadn't failed to sell out a performance in over fifty years – could be a bit of a headache. Today, though, was definitely not qualified for consideration as even a _good _day. He was tired, he had a massive headache, and he _still _didn't know who he was going to get to fill in the female lead. _Okay, I get it, _he thought, rubbing his temples as he slid open the door, _the soldiers are coming back home, and everyone wants to go meet their sons and husbands and whatever as they arrive. But, I mean, __**come on, **__the show still has to go on, people._

All such thoughts immediately flew out of his head as soon as he got a good look at who awaited him in his office.

There were three of them, a young Fire Nation man with half a face, on whose arm was a young Fire Nation woman who was looking decidedly the worse for wear. On the man's other side was another young woman, obviously Water Tribe, with a purple stone hanging from a choker tied around her neck.

Yes, Yakusho knew _exactly _who they were; one would've had to have been blind, deaf, and dumb in the most literal sense to be unaware these days, and even then, Yakusho would've had his doubts. Though the most shocking thing for him, at least, was that three of the most famous people in the Fire Nation were bowing to him.

And bowing to him _first._

Suddenly feeling nervous and tongue-tied, he tugged at the collar of his shirt and rendered an awkward bow. "Your Highnesses," he finally choked out, because that was the only way he could think to address them, for all that none of them were royalty anymore, "it is…it is an honor to receive you today."

"The honor," the man said, in an accent so posh Yakusho would've laughed if he hadn't known it was real, "is all ours, Yakusho-san."

"Well…um…heh…uh…" He gestured weakly at the chairs that were crammed into a pitiful excuse for a line in front of his desk, and mentally cursed himself for not keeping the place tidier. "Would you all care to have a seat?"

The man shook his head, and smiled in a way that seemed, to Yakusho, very sad. "No, Yakusho-san, that will not be necessary, but we thank you."

It was only then that Yakusho noticed that the man was carrying what could only be a funeral urn, on which was written the words, _Ashikaga Ursa, Loving Mother and Credit to her People. _

Naturally, this did nothing to alleviate his confusion.

For what felt like a long time, no one said anything. Prince Zuko (_for Yakusho's brain seemed determined to think of them all as royalty, no matter what the broadsheets said_) kept opening and closing his mouth. He looked on the verge of tears, and Princess Katara quickly leapt to his side, sliding an arm through his and laying her head, very gently, on the boy's shoulder.

It was all very touching; Yakusho would've agreed to anything they wanted, on the spot.

Then, Princess Azula saved them all. She cleared her throat, and in a voice that sounded weak and scratchy, she said, "Yakusho-san, we have a very…a very special request. Do you remember our mother, the Lady Ursa?"

Yakusho had to smile. "Of _course _I remember your lady mother, Your Highness. She was one of our most dedicated and beloved patrons. I even remember the both of you, when you were younger. Shimura-san, who was leader of this troupe before me, always made sure there were three tickets set aside, every time you all were on the island."

Prince Zuko chuckled. "Really?"

Yakusho shrugged. "I think Shimura-san was a bit in love with your lady mother, truth be told. He always swore that, someday, he'd get her on our stage."

"Mother would have liked that," Princess Azula said, so softly that, for a moment, Yakusho wasn't entirely sure he'd heard right. But then she gave herself a shake and pressed on. "One of our mother's lifelong wishes was that, when she went to meet her ancestors, her ashes would be spread upon your stage, and her urn kept by your company. She…" She faltered, her words hitching in her throat, and Yakusho had to bite down on a cheer when she continued. "She…she always loved watching your company perform. Your plays were bright spots in a troubled life."

To say that Yakusho was honored would be an understatement. As it was, it was all he could do not to burst into tears as he bowed, low and deep, and said, "It would be our honor to fulfill your lady mother's final wishes."

He rose in time to catch the Princess Azula and her brother heave great big sighs of relief, while the Princess Katara rolled her eyes and said, "See? I _told _you guys it'd be cool." She turned to him, and bowed her head. "Are there seats available for tonight's performance?"

He laughed. "For the Lady Ursa's children? There are _always _seats available."

Before the curtain went up, Yakusho sent one of the apprentices out to fetch a fire sage, who conducted the ceremony before the bowed heads and tear-filled eyes of the Lady Ursa's children, daughter-in-law, and the entire troupe, back-and-front-of-the-house. Then the curtain went up, and they threw their hearts into it.

For once, the Ember Island Players cast aside the joke of being terrible, and performed _Love Amongst the Dragons, _the Lady Ursa's favorite play, just as it was meant to be.

They brought down the house.

* * *

Ugh. _Feels._

For those playing the home game, Yakusho Koji is the name of a well-known Japanese actor. Ever seen _Shall We Dance?, _and not the American re-make with Richard Gere (which is actually pretty solid, as re-makes go), but the original Japanese version? The male lead is that guy. He's also in a bunch of other stuff, such as the Japanese dad to the deaf girl in _Babel _(which is one of my wife's favorite movies, not least because it portrays Mexicans as normal people, which is rare), as well as, I'm pretty sure, the awkward guy who loves_sumo _in _Memoirs of a Geisha. _He's been around.

MOVING ON!


	151. THE TRIBESMEN II

THE TRIBESMEN

HASOOK REALLY WANTED TO BE NICE TO HIS COUSIN, HE REALLY DID. After all, it wasn't like he _hated _Nanook, or even disliked the guy. They may have butted heads from time-to-time, but hey, they were family, and in the Southern Water Tribes, family always came first, no matter what. Still, that said…

_Does he have to be so morose about it? _Hasook grumbled to himself as he went on deck and began walking towards where his cousin was moping at the railing. _I mean, it's not like I didn't warn him, and, __**come on, **__what did he expect? Katara was never the blushing violet that he liked to imagine her to be, and, all things considered, she could've done __**much **__worse for a husband._

For his part, as Nanook hung his head and unabashedly moped, really hoping it wasn't his cousin whom he was hearing stomping over the deck of the ship, he was thinking, _Okay, I get it, I'm an idiot. But did that strange blind girl __**have **__to be so blunt and vulgar about it? I mean, maybe I was being a bit thick-headed about everything, refusing to see what was right before my eyes, but __**still, **__did she have to be so…so…so __**mean?**_

Hasook reached his cousin, leaning against the railing beside him and looking off across the sea. He thought about a lot of things for a few moments, about the hard fighting and the campaign of hit-and-run they had waged on what few Fire Nation troops would stand in their way, as well as about the tribesmen they had left behind to help keep the peace as the southern Earth Kingdom got back on its feet. He had really wanted to stay with them, but, well, his damned fool of a cousin just _had _to go home.

Finally, not being able to think of anything else, Hasook clapped a hand to his cousin's back and gave the guy a light-hearted shake. "Aw, come on, cousin, it's not _that _bad. There are plenty of other fish in the sea!"

Nanook huffed, and knew full well how childish he both looked and sounded. "Yeah, I know," he pouted, doing nothing to stop himself, "but…none like Katara…"

"And that," Hasook said, so ready to be _done _with his cousin's moping, "is just the point. She was always one-of-a-kind, meant for something bigger and grander. Don't tear yourself up over something that was never in the cards."

Nanook shrugged, not feeling the least bit cheered up. "That just makes it worse. Like…why couldn't he have been ugly, or an asshole? Why couldn't the Chief have hated him on sight? It's just not fair…"

Hasook thought back to that banquet in the Royal Palace of Omashu, and chuckled. "He does have interesting friends, though. His sister was a hoot, and that other Fire Nation girl, those cartwheels she did? _Hysterical._"

Nanook groaned. "Not _all _of them were interesting…"

Hasook begged to differ, but figured he should keep that to himself. "Aw, come on, Nanook! So the blind girl was a bit…well…_harsh. _You kind of asked for it, what with not even noticing that Katara had her own betrothal necklace and all…"

Nanook just shook his head. "Yeah, probably…but did Sokka _have _to laugh so hard when she was done making mincemeat of me?"

_Probably. This is Sokka we're talking about, the only guy so dopey that he managed to snag the other royal on display. _He quickly pushed the image of Sokka spinning his wheelchair around the dance floor, with that Fire Nation princess perched on his lap, arms around his neck, squealing like a little girl and egging him on. _Even Hakoda couldn't get upset, no matter how unhappy he was. _"Hey," Hasook said, desperately looking for the bright side, "it's like I said, not the end of the world."

"Yeah," Nanook muttered, "it just feels like it…"

At that, Hasook decided he was done. "Alright, I give up," he said, throwing his hands up in the air and heading back down below decks. "You wanna stand there and mope like a little girl all the way home, be my guest. Just don't come complaining to me when you catch your death of cold."

And with that, Hasook went, feeling a bit bad, but hey, it wasn't like he didn't _try._

* * *

What happened that got Nanook in a funk? Well...I've decided to leave that to your imagination. Just know that Toph was a bit...well..._short with him._

Toph Bei Motherfuckin' Fong never did have much tolerance for those she thought of as _fools. _She ain't Mr. T, ya'll; she don't pity the fool.

Did I...did I just drop a Mr. T joke? _Yeesh. _I'm getting old, you guys.

MOVING ON!


	152. THE MERCHANT

THE MERCHANT

SATO HIROSHI WAS ON HIS WAY OUT THE DOOR TO HEAD INTO THE OFFICE WHEN HE RAN FACE-FIRST INTO ONE OF HIS SERVANTS. He didn't get mad; after all, it wasn't the servant's fault that his mind was in a million places at once these days. The mere fact that his family had survived his daughter's treason with its fortunes intact was a miracle in and of itself, and now he had to completely retool everything as the world entered an era of peace? _Gods help me, and ancestors, please think kindly of me. _So, he didn't get mad as he and the servant disentangled themselves, just brushed himself off and chuckled.

"Careful there, Isao," he said, doing a quick double-take at his papers and sighing with relief that nothing had gone flying. "You alright?"

Isao nodded and bowed, looking quite stressed at the turn of events. "Of course I am, Sato-san. A thousand apologies."

Hiroshi waved the apologies aside; even now, after all his years of success, he wasn't used to all the bowing and scraping that wealth required him to endure. "It's quite alright, really, don't worry." He took another look at Isao, and frowned. "Are you _sure _you're okay? Is something wrong?"

Isao nibbled on a corner of his bottom lip, looking deeply confused. For a moment, Hiroshi wasn't sure the man was going to say anything, but then, Isao held out a small, plain envelope, a strange expression on his face. "It's just…this arrived for you, Sato-san."

"Ah," Hiroshi said, setting his papers on a convenient table and sliding on his reading glasses as he broke the seal on the letter. "Who was it from?"

Isao looked more worried than ever. "That's just it. There was a knock at the door, and I went immediately to answer it, as is my duty, but by the time I opened it, no one was there, just this letter, held down by a rock."

Hiroshi frowned as he began to decipher the letter. "Hmm…how curious…well, let's just take a look and…see…what this is…_about…"_

His voice trailed off, and everything grew very distant, very far away. There was a strange whistling in his ears, and if someone had tapped his forehead with a feather, he would have gone tumbling down like a felled tree.

It was, indeed, a letter, from his daughter.

_Father, Mother,_

_ I just want to let you know that I'm okay. I made it through everything just fine. I wanted to come home, let you know in person, but…I just couldn't. Not yet. I'm sorry for all the pain and heartache I've caused you, I'm sure the past months have been a terrible time, but…I've changed. I'm a different person now; you probably wouldn't even recognize me. I'm better, though, a better person. I'm happy and I have friends and I'm going to an amazing place with an amazing person. I promise I'll come visit you someday, I will._

_ I'm just not ready yet._

_ And Father, I understand why you did what you did. You love me, and you wanted to protect me. I just don't know when I'll be able to forgive you. I'll always try, though._

_ I love you both, forever and for always._

_ \- Your Daughter, Asami_

By the end, Hiroshi's throat felt hot and thick and fuzzy, his chest tight, and there were tears in his eyes that he did nothing to brush away.

He sighed, and when he spoke again, it was in a voice that he didn't recognize.

"Isao, do me a favor and send to the office, tell them that I'll be late today."

Isao was confused, but bowed. "At once, Sato-san."

He nodded, not really having heard. "Yes…at once…" That done, he turned on his heel, and slowly, carefully, began to make his way to his wife.

* * *

If you remember from Book Two, Hiroshi cut a deal with the government, his daughter's life and safety in exchange for Mai and Ty's. Was that the wrong thing to do? Honestly, I don't know, mainly because I don't have a daughter, and probably never will (kids aren't really in me and the wife's game plan; we'd rather spend our ten-year anniversary bar-hopping through downtown Dublin or something). That said, if I _did _have a daughter...well...I like to think I wouldn't have done what Hiroshi did, but I definitely understand how Asami is conflicted about it.

Moving on!


	153. THE MECHANIST

THE MECHANIST

THE MAN KNOWN FAR AND WIDE AS _THE MECHANIST _PURSED HIS LIPS AND STROKED HIS IMPRESSIVE GOATEE. He was, for lack of a better word, _confused. _Not by the drawings that he was studying with his inventor's eye; no, not by those at all. They were quite good, actually, very detailed, the concept behind them not fully fleshed out, of course, but still, rather impressive. He wasn't entirely sure he could've done a much better job himself. _I mean, there's still a lot of work to be done, before we're even at the prototype stage, but judging by this, a lot of the hard theoretical work is already finished. Still, though…_

He looked up at the strange young women who had come to see him. One was obviously Water Tribe, and though the young lady was pale and obviously drained, she had a look of such contentment on her face that the Mechanist was tempted to ask her what her secret was.

She hadn't said a word, though, so he decided to focus on the other young lady. _The Lady Bei Fong, if you can believe it, _which the Mechanist wasn't entirely sure he did. _Well-born, to be sure, and well-connected, if the stories are true…though does she __**have **__to smoke so much in my office? I'll be airing this place out for-_

An annoyed snap of fingers jerked him out of his thoughts. Giving himself a shake, he cleared his throat and said, "Yes, my lady?"

The Lady Bei Fong was _not _amused. "First, buddy, what did I say about calling me a _lady?"_

He felt himself blanche, and was very happy she was blind. _You threatened to pull my tongue out through my rear, if I remember correctly, though it wasn't that polite. _"Ahem, um…you said not to?"

She gave a savage nod. "Damn fucking straight." Another puff of her cigarette, and as she spoke, the smoke billowed out of her mouth and nostrils. "So, can you make it?"

He turned his attention back to the drawings, happy to latch on to something that he understood. "Well, it's not _quite _at a prototype stage, but…I definitely see where you're going. A little more refinement, and I believe we will have a prosthetic arm the likes of which the world has never seen."

She scoffed. "Gods-damn straight the world has never seen anything like it. It was put together by a group of minds the world has never even _imagined._"

He chuckled. _Of that, I have no doubt, though, with everything that's happening…the Earth Kingdom peacefully breaking up into three nations, only the southern one with a king, the Fire Nation making itself into a republic, and here, in the northwest, people talking about a __**Republic of the Four Nations, **__well…who knows where this will all lead?_

Out loud, he said, "Indeed." He looked back to the drawings, and allowed himself a moment of doubt. "Though…there is one problem…"

The Lady Bei Fong shot him a savage look. "And the fuck would that be?"

Struggling not to gulp under her glare, he smiled, before realizing how stupid that was. "Well…um…the kind of precision required in the metalwork…I'm not sure I, or anyone else for that matter, is capable of it, at least not at this time."

The Lady Bei Fong scoffed once more, and smiled through her smoke. "Well, good thing you've got me, isn't it?"

He popped an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I follow…"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not; no one fucking does."

She didn't keep him in suspense for long, for that was when she told him about metalbending, and the school she was planning to found to teach it to anyone who wanted to learn, and how, if he undertook to build this replacement arm, her students would always be available for his shops.

That was when the man known as the Mechanist became very, very excited.

* * *

You just know that that prosthetic arm is going to be all _kinds _of _bitchin'. _You just _know it. _

Before anyone asks (I'm looking at you, inthehood), I'm not going to go too in-depth on the details of the post-war world. Why? Well, one has to end a story _some time, _and, honestly, the post-war world could easily be another three books, or more, and none of them particularly interesting, at least from a narrative perspective. And besides, this was a story about people as much as it was a story about nations, so let's hop around the world and find out what the people were up to.

Oh, and while I'm thinking about no, these last chapters aren't in strict chronological order. Don't strain yourself too hard trying to put them in a timeline; I didn't.

MOVING ON!


	154. KIYOSHIRO

KIYOSHIRO

EVERY MORNING, IMAWANO KIYOSHIRO HAD A SET ROUTINE. He woke early, washed and dressed himself, no matter how much the Palace's servants tried to do it all for him. He would eat a light breakfast, sip his tea, smoke his pipe as he went through the morning's papers and messages. Then, he would go out to the Palace's shrine, where the ashes of all the Tokugawas were kept. There, he clapped his hands, bowed to his knees, and prayed for the souls of his best friend, and, to his ever-present surprise, his best friend's son.

Someone had asked him this once, why he prayed for Yoshihito. If Kiyoshiro remembered correctly, it was one of the young, fresh-faced reporters who seemed to be swarming the country these days, working for the ever-larger numbers of papers and broadsheets, now that several centuries of censorship had been lifted. _Why do you pray for the late Crown Prince, now that his failings have become public knowledge?_

Kiyoshiro hadn't even had to think about it. _Because, whatever he was in life, in death, he went to his ancestors with dignity, and, at the end of his life, tried to atone at least a little for what he had done. Not many of us can face the consequences of our actions with heads held high, even at the end of our lives. For that, I wish him all the best in the afterlife._

Then, if he remembered correctly, he had said, _No more questions, _and gone about his day.

His respects paid, he went back into the Palace and got to work. There were numerous little meetings and briefings, a thousand-thousand things, both big and small, to do, years of work before the world could even really _start _getting back on its feet. Sometimes, it was enough to make him weep from exhaustion.

_But never from despair, _he mused as he walked the halls. _Humanity has passed from beneath the shadow. We finally have a chance to forge our own destiny._

_ We finally said __**no more, **__and meant it._

Then, all of that done, two hours before lunch, came his final morning appointment. That was what he called _The Big One, _the daily session of what was once called _His Majesty's Privy Council, _but was now merely called the _People's Council for Reconstruction. _He rather liked that name. That lovely wife of Zuko's, the Lady Katara, had thought of it, of course, but since she had allowed Kiyoshiro to take the credit, he did so with gusto.

The guards bowed as he entered, low, but not as they would to a Fire Lord. He returned the bow, since he was not a Fire Lord, and let them open the door for him, because he was an old man, and had his vanity. The council rose as he entered, gave him a bow which he returned, as the chamberlain bellowed, _"All rise for the people's Prime Minister to the Council for Reconstruction!" _The preliminaries over, Kiyoshiro took his seat at the head of the table. Once, this had been the Fire Lord's place, and the chair had thus been ridiculously ornate.

Now, though, there was no difference between it and all the other chairs. He rather liked that.

Everyone settled, many calmly puffing away and sipping cool water, Kiyoshiro gave them all a beaming smile. "My lords, gentlemen, and those who qualify as neither," the last given with a wink to the representatives of the commons, who joined the others in chuckling, "good morning. I pray you all are well."

A round of mutters to the affirmative, and then he got down to business.

"So, I know we've all been debating what to do next, and, most importantly, how to get there. Well, as it so happens, I was receiving the new ambassador from the Northern Water Tribe, and he told me of something I found rather fascinating, something that they've had in the North for…well…_a long time._" He paused, took a sip of water, lit his pipe, and only then finished his thought.

"Tell me, gentlemen, have any of you heard of something called a _constitution?"_

He was very pleased to find them all interested, conservatives and radicals and everyone in between.

Indeed, to his never-ending surprise, Kiyoshiro was content. Maybe not _happy, _per se, but content. Sure, he had resisted this honor when everyone had agreed that only he could perform it, but now that he was getting used to it? Well…

_How could I not be happy? The sun is rising, and the darkness is fading._

_ We have a chance, and I intend to take it._

He just wished his best friend could have lived to see it.

* * *

He's not the confidante anymore; he's just Kiyoshiro. There's something inspiring in that, to me at least.

Well, that's all for today, ladies and gentlemen. That seems as good a stopping point as any, and I want to make sure everyone's rested and ready for tomorrow's feel parade. Because, see, tomorrow?

Tomorrow, we'll finally see the end. It's been a wild ride; I hope you've all enjoyed it.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Kya tells her husband not to be such a grump. Stay tuned!


	155. KYA

KYA

SHE FOUND HER HUSBAND IN A CORNER OF THE LONG HALL, SITTING ON A STOOL, ARMS CROSSED, PUFFING HIS PIPE AND DOING SOMETHING THAT COULD ONLY BE CALLED _POUTING. _Struggling very hard not to laugh (_which the wine her new son-in-law had brought with him did not make the most easy of tasks_), Kya settled down beside her husband, threaded an arm through his, and laid her head on his shoulder.

"You know," she said, managing not to laugh, but not quite able to keep the amusement from her voice, "you really should stop being such a grouch. He's a wonderful boy."

Hakoda huffed, and, judging by his expression, her words had made not a dent in his scowling exterior. "I still don't approve."

Kya wasn't quite able to stop herself from giggling this time. "Who says we have to approve? That's never been our people's way, and besides, I like him."

That drew another huff. "Of course _you _like him. He's done nothing but kow-tow to you since he stepped off my ship."

Kya rolled her eyes to the heavens and prayed to the gods for strength. _Men. _"As a son-in-law should, and, in case you haven't noticed, young Zuko has been all but offering to lick your shoes clean since he met you."

"And that's another thing," Hakoda growled. "What kind of name is _Zuko. _I mean, it's bad enough that he's Fire Nation, and royal born at that, but does he _have _to have a name like that?"

This time, Kya was legitimately offended, if not for herself, definitely on behalf of her daughter's happiness. "And what's wrong with _Zuko? _I think it's quite nice. Strange, but in an exotic, foreign way." She saw her husband open his mouth, and stopped him with a jabbed finger. "And don't you _dare _think about going on about how he should change his family name. His family was his family, and you, nor anyone else, has a right to try and make him give that up."

To her joy, her husband wilted a little under her stern tone. "Okay, I'll let _that _go…but look at them! Sokka, nuzzling that princess, and that Suki girl and her friend, what's her name-"

"Asami, dear, and she's a friend to _all _of them, and a hero, if even _half_ of what Katara says is true."

"Right, well, _Asami, _and how's _that _for a name, but there they are, capering about like fools, and don't even get me started on that blind girl."

Kya gave her husband a swat on the arm, though with enough force to let him know that it wasn't playful. "Now, that's enough. Toph is a sweet girl, rough around the edges, but sweet, and she makes Korra happy."

Her husband made a face. "Yeah, about that…"

Kya sighed. "They're just _friends, _Hakoda. Give it a rest. Toph may be an outsider, but Korra is one of us. Give her a little bit of credit."

"Well, she could have been nicer to her parents…"

Kya turned to her daughter, just in time to catch her eyes. Her daughter gave her the most beautiful smile, and Kya's heart fluttered and it was all she could do to stop herself from bursting into tears and running over to sweep her daughter up in her arms.

"Hush, Hakoda," she said, still smiling at Katara, who had turned back around to moon over her husband, who really was a sweet boy, even Gran-Gran liked him. "We all know Tonraq and Senna weren't the best parents in the world, and Katara is Korra's mother now, you can just see it in her eyes." And with that, she looked around, saw the smiles, the hope, watched as her son, _gods bless him, his poor arm, I'll never recover from that shock, _awkwardly got to his feet and began shuffling around the dance floor with that Azula girl, and Toph and Korra were up, and Katara and Zuko, and they were all spinning and laughing and there were no tears and no frowns and nothing but hope and light and joy.

Seeing that, she decided she had had enough of her husband's surly mood. She stood, planted her hands firmly on her hips, and shot him her best glare.

"Now, that's enough pouting, _dear. _You're going to snap out of this funk and stop being an old _stick in the mud, _and really, you should be ashamed, after that speech you gave that sent us back into the war, this is just the new world you were talking about. So, snap out of it, smile, be nice to your son-in-law, and dance with me."

Hakoda grumbled and growled, though she could see him wilting, and when he tried to open his mouth, she just shook her head.

"I said, _shut up and dance with me._"

Finally, Hakoda smiled, stood, took her hand, and took her spinning around the dance floor.

It was the best day of Kya's life.

* * *

Kya, in my mind, would be a lot like her daughter, in that she don't tolerate no tomfoolery. Her husband may want to grouch and pout, but Kya values her children more than she values...well..._anything else. _Would she rather her daughter marry a nice Water Tribe boy? Well, of _course _she would. That said, the ship has sailed, and he seems like a nice enough boy, so why get worked up about it? And even if that _Toph girl _can be a bit, well, _scandalous, _she _is _funny, and at least the girl isn't _her _daughter.

I actually have proof, from my own life, of how someone like, say, Kya would react to the evidence of Toph and Korra's _friendship _right in front of them. That being, my grandpa, who was born in _1927\. _When my aunt came out to him, he was not exactly _happy, _mostly because he didn't really understand (it was something no one had ever really told him about, in the world he grew up in). But, as he told her, _I won't pretend to like it, or pretend to approve, but...you're my daughter, and I love you, and that's never going to change, no matter what. So, I have one question: Are you happy? Because that's all I really care about._

And if that doesn't make you tear up a little, I don't know what to do with you.

This, oddly enough, also reminds me of how my _super racist _aunt (as in, my oldest uncle's wife on my mom's side) reacted to my marrying a Latina. What she said, in essence, was, _Well, it's not something I would approve of, but she's a nice enough girl, and it's your life, and, well, times change. What can you do? So, of **course **you can bring her over whenever you want. _My wife found that oddly endearing.

Moving on!


	156. BUMI II

BUMI

"AND NOW," BUMI SAID AS HE MADE HIS MOVE AND TOOK ONE OF LOBSANG'S PIECES, "OUR WATCH HAS ENDED."

Lobsang made a rather frustrated face, at which Bumi could only giggle. The former monk had obviously not foreseen the move, which, Bumi felt, was only to be expected; the man was absolutely hopeless at Pai Sho. _Sure, _Bumi mused to himself, _he thinks he's great, but look at who he has to play with! A bunch of sane people, and how can you sharpen your wit like that? Pah!_

Taking a long drag from his pipe, Lobsang shook his head, still looking rather bewildered. "I have to confess," he finally admitted, sighing, "I really didn't see that coming."

"Of course you didn't!" Bumi chortled, slapping his knee. "You've never played someone as _steady _as me! _See?!" _He held out his hand, which wobbled quite impressively. "_Steady as a rock!" _He threw back his head and laughed like a loon (_by his own opinion)_, at which Lobsang just groaned and made a move with a rather depressed look on his face.

"Uh huh," Lobsang said, still shaking his head, "whatever you say, old friend. Though, I have to ask…_whose _watch has ended?"

Bumi frowned. _Come on, boy, you're smarter than that! _Giving his most theatric roll of the eyes, he replied, "Why, the Order of the White Lotus, of course."

As Bumi expected, Lobsang did not look in the least amused or relieved. "About time, if you ask me. I never was comfortable with its existence in the first place, or the task it set itself when Sozin began his War."

Bumi shrugged, making another move with a slap and taking yet one more of Lobsang's pieces. Bumi _tried _to feel bad; this was the fourth game in a row Lobsang had lost. _Still, that's what you get for playing against a loony old man! _He giggled at his own thought, before focusing on his friend's comment.

"Well," he admitted, "of _course _you feel that way. That's no doubt why you refused to join us, when we offered you a place."

"I'm not a fan of _secret societies,_" Lobsang said, studying the board carefully, "or of secrets in general. Secrets breed fear, and fear breeds anger, and anger breeds violence, which breeds more secrets. It's a vicious cycle, and I wanted no part of it."

"Which I respected at the time," Bumi said, bowing his head. "That's why we didn't press it."

Lobsang popped an eyebrow. "_We?"_

Bumi giggled. "_Of course! _What, you think I'm alone?"

"The thought had occurred to me."

"Oh, ye of little faith. Still…we were never large, never have been, but we've always been well-placed. The swordmaster at the Fire Nation's Royal Military Academy-"

"Master Piandao?"

"The very one. Oh, and Liu Bang, the gangster in Omashu, and a few generals on all sides, Master Pakku in the North…you get the picture."

Eyes still on the game board, Lobsang shrugged. "I'm beginning to. And that horrid Kojima fellow, he was one of yours, right?"

"You know," Bumi mused, playing with his goatee, "I'm not entirely sure. He _seemed _to work for us, but I was never truly certain he was in it for _us. _Kojima, at the end of the day, was in it for Kojima."

"Ah…did you ever know his real name?"

Bumi scoffed. "He gave me about a dozen, but I never believed a single one of them."

Lobsang nodded. "Fair enough. So," he said, making his own ineffective move and grimacing as he did it, "we are now in a world shorn of a few kings. How do you feel about that?"

Bumi took a moment to ponder, before his hand darted out to execute a complicated maneuver that took two of Lobsang's pieces and pretty much made the man's defeat a certainty. Then, after nibbling on some lettuce, Bumi suddenly remembered Lobsang had asked a question, and decided to distract the man from his defeat-induced depression by answering.

"Honestly…" He pondered some more, then shrugged. "I really don't know. The War is over, and the people of this world are finally free to find their own balance. Did I ever anticipate that either of those two things would happen? I hoped for one, and never imagined the other; a world without an Avatar is…well…"

"Something we've known for a hundred years or so," Lobsang pointed out, not even bothering to hide the pride on his face, _the devil._

Bumi approved. "True…still…it'll be interesting to see what happens."

"So long as the White Lotus goes back to being an _old man's bragging club, _and pulls its nose from humanity's affairs."

Bumi tapped his nose. "That, I will be quite happy to do. I, for one, am quite tired of _rocking the boat!" _He gripped his sides and laughed until he cried, doing his best to ignore Lobsang as the man buried his face in his hands a muttered in Gorkhali, _Gods help me…_

Bumi's heart went out to the man, it really did. It helped that Bumi was telling the complete, unvarnished truth. Very little of what had happened was what Bumi and his allies had truly anticipated, but, like the good sport he was, Bumi didn't mind.

A teenage girl and her ragtag group of allies had saved the world, not just from itself, but from something the world didn't even know it needed saving from.

And what wasn't cool about that?

* * *

What, you thought I wasn't going to pop back in with Bumi in the end? _You're crazy._

You know, I thought about having Lobsang be White Lotus, but...he wouldn't go for that, would he? And he'd definitely never keep it a secret. Good thing Bumi probably thought ahead on that; it's what Bumi does.

Moving on!


	157. THE WARRIOR

THE WARRIOR

OF ALL THE WAYS THAT YINGTAI EXPECTED SUKI TO RETURN TO THEIR ISLAND, SAUNTERING DOWN THE LANE WITH HER ARM SLUNG OVER THE SHOULDERS OF A FIRE NATION GIRL WAS NOT ONE OF THEM. Not that Yingtai, or any of her Sisters, really cared _how _Suki returned. What mattered was that she had, that their Sister had come back to them, even though she had no reason to, and would have every excuse to never set eyes on them again.

The Sister they now knew had been right all along was back, and judging from the way she squealed and happily returned all the proffered hugs and kisses, she had forgiven them.

Yingtai was too happy to see this was so to ask why. After all, wasn't it obvious? _She's Suki, and that's just the way she is._

_ She reminded us all of what it truly means to be a Warrior of Kyoshi. Even Matron admitted it, in the end…_

Yingtai sighed, and her heart fell.

_Matron…_

"So," she said, giving herself a shake, "who's this?"

"This," Suki said, throwing her arm back around the new girl, "is Sato Asami. She's Fire Nation-"

"Well, _duh,_" Luli snarked. "Any idiot can see that."

"Hush, you," Suki said, shooting Luli a dirty look which shut Luli up with remarkable speed. "Anyways, _as I was saying, _this is Asami, and she's going to be our newest Sister. Asami, say hi to everyone."

Asami looked a bit nervous, but far from frightened. She brushed some stray hair out of her face, tucked it behind her ear, and gave them all a very polite bow. "Hello, everyone," she said in awkward, thickly-accented Guangzhou. "It's an honor to be here, and I hope no one has any objections."

Yingtai rolled her eyes, giving the girl a quick poke in the stomach, or, at least, _trying to, _because Asami dodged it and gave Yingtai a poke of her own for her troubles. Impressed, Yingtai giggled and nodded. "I think you're going to fit in just fine around here. It's about time we started getting some new blood."

At that, Suki suddenly became very confused. "Really? It's that easy? We've never accepted Fire Nation applicants, and since were all of you so accepting of change? I mean, I'm not holding a grudge, I understand what happened, but the last time change was in the air, I ended up knocking a lot of you out cold with my sword's scabbard."

A visible cringe went through the gathered Sisters, though Cuifen, _being Cuifen, _giggled and said, "And you broke my arm, too!"

Suki went pale, her hand flying to her mouth. "Gods, Cuifen, _I did?"_

Cuifen shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it; we all had it coming."

Yingtai nodded. "We did, we really did. We let ourselves be blinded by obedience, because that was easy, and then tried to stop you, when you took the right path, even though it was hard."

Suki grimaced. "And what does Matron have to say about it?"

Yingtai suddenly felt very awkward. She looked around, trying to see if anyone was going to help her, but sure enough, no one did. _This is what I get for being Suki's best friend since we were eight. _Plucking up her courage, she let it all spill out.

"Matron…is dead. She killed herself when that horrid Matsuura man came after the Avatar. She did it to save us all."

Suki's face fell, and she bowed her head and muttered a prayer. "Of course she did…" She gave her eyes a quick wipe, looked back up, and smiled. "Who's the new Matron?"

Yingtai shrugged, rubbed the back of her neck, and finally decided to just say it. "Why…you are. It was unanimous."

"It was the last thing Matron said, before she passed," Jinghua called out.

Suki, meanwhile, had gone white as a sheet. "Wait…you must…surely you jest."

Yingtai shook her head. "I'm afraid we're completely serious."

Suki gaped, while Asami turned on her and said, "Wait…my Guangzhou is still rocky, but…did they just say that you're the new Matron of the Order?"

Suki threw her a weak smile. "Heh…apparently…"

Asami surprised them all then. The girl squealed, threw her arms around Suki, and planted sloppy kisses on both of her cheeks. Suki turned bright red, her eyes flying wide, while Asami jumped up and down and laughed.

"Oh my _gods, _Suki! That's fucking _awesome!" _Then she threw herself back to arm's length, cleared her throat, and gave a very proper bow. "In that case, Matron Loeng, I would be _honored _to be the first woman to ask you for a place in your Order."

Slowly but surely, the color came back to Suki's face, and she gave a tight, but confidant, nod. "Very well, Sato Asami. On your knees."

Everyone present knew what came next. They quickly sorted themselves into formation behind Suki, fell to their knees, and waited.

They watched, as Suki drew her sword, and tapped it on Asami's shoulders, each one in turn.

"Asami of the family Sato, born of the Fire Nation, today, you begin your novitiate in the Warrior Order of Kyoshi. Starting today, your family will be your Sisters, and your Sisters will be your family. Are you ready to begin your preparation?"

Asami looked up, grinning from ear-to-ear. "I was born ready, _Matron._"

A wave of giggles rippled through the assembly, quickly silenced by a stern look from Suki. After making sure to throw everyone a wink, Suki turned back to Asami, sheathed her sword, and smiled. "Then rise, Sister Asami. Rise, and be born anew."

And Asami rose, and the Sisters of Kyoshi rose with her, drew their swords in a loud, searing _hiss, _and cheered.

After the excitement had died down, and Asami had finally gotten control of her tears, Yingtai sprang at her new Sister and took the girl's hair in her hands. "I have to say, this hair is just…I just _love _your hair, Sister. And you, too, Matron; long hair suits you."

Suki gave a flip of the hair in question and laughed along with her Sisters. "I know, right?"

"Too bad you'll both have to cut it off," Luli grumbled; everyone knew she had been dreaming of getting the long hair of her childhood back since she started her novitiate.

Suki, though, just smirked. "Says who?"

"Well," Yingtai muttered, because though she didn't want _long _hair, a bit longer than her chin would be nice, "isn't that tradition?"

It was Asami who beat Suki to the scoff. "_Come on. _The Emperors are gone, the Fire Lords have fallen, and the Avatar Cycle is at an end. Compared to all of that, hair length is a small tradition to at least fiddle with."

"And besides," Suki said, looking towards Kyoshi's Temple, "last I checked, I'm the Matron around here, and I think it's time for some changes."

And changes there were, changes that had been long overdue for their Order.

As for Sister Asami, she completed her novitiate and became a full Warrior before so much as a year had passed. By then, she couldn't remember the last time a day had passed without her smiling.

* * *

Come on, you guys all knew _that _was coming. Suki would've been the obvious choice, wouldn't she? And, in many ways, it's the completion, not just of _her _story arc, but of Asami's, too.

In case you haven't been paying attention (I know I don't, from time-to-time), today will be the last day of story updates. Why? Because it's all almost over. Are you feeling feels over this? Because I know I am. I'm...a bit worked up, I won't lie. :-)

Moving on!


	158. THE SISTERS

THE SISTERS

WHEN THE SISTERS FINALLY REALIZED WHO IT WAS THEY HAD BEEN HIDING FROM IN THAT DRESSER, IT WAS ALL THEY COULD DO NOT TO WEEP WITH RELIEF. At least, it was all _Lin _could do not to weep; after all, she was all of nine-years-old, and as a self-appointed _big girl, _it wasn't in her nature to weep like a little girl.

Not that she blamed Suyin, of course; Suyin was only four, and all she had known of the world was fear and heartache and other things too big and scary to understand. Lin didn't really understand, either, but she would never admit that to Suyin, because if she did, it would only frighten her little sister, and Lin would die first before she allowed that to happen.

They had been living in the old Bei Fong mansion for almost a year now, ever since the horrid monsters in scarlet-and-black had come screaming into Gaoling and torn it apart, brick-by-brick. For weeks, it seemed, the calm, peaceful world they had known before had been turned into a hell they could not even _begin _to comprehend. Their parents were gone, where and how, Suyin didn't know, and Lin couldn't bear to tell her, because she didn't really know, either. _It was just too big._

What had followed had been more suffering. They had starved through the winter, running and hiding from vandals and bandits and plain regular people as hungry and desperate as they were. Once, not long after the New Year, a nice man had come and offered to feed them. Suyin hadn't known better, and Lin had distrusted him the moment she laid eyes on him, and when she refused, he drew a knife and grabbed at her, calling her filthy names that she'd never heard before. But she had her own knife, and slashed at his eyes and kicked him in the place Mommy told her never to kick a boy, and then she'd snatched her sister in her arms and ran.

Ever since then, they'd hidden at the Bei Fong mansion. It seemed relatively safe, and was still more-or-less intact. There were still enough bits and pieces to turn at least one room into something livable, and the room even had a rapidly deteriorating shrine that they could pray for the souls of their parents at.

The best part, though, was the big dresser, and it was there that they hid from the big beast that had come down out of the sky, hid and huddled together, Lin clutching her sister with one hand and the precious knife with the other, praying to all the gods she could name until the doors were flung open and Lin felt like a fool.

Because, sure enough, the Lady Toph was looming above them, smiling from ear-to-ear.

"And just who would you two be?"

Suyin squealed, and burst into tears as soon as she realized that the Lady Toph wasn't going to hurt them. Lin, for her part, wanted to relax. She had never met the Lady Toph, but she knew the Bei Fongs had been good people, as nobles went (_or so Daddy had always said_), and the Lady Toph had once bought her some sweets at some festival, which one, Lin couldn't remember.

She couldn't relax, though, not until she knew, _really knew, _that Suyin was safe.

She slowly crawled out of the dresser, standing straight and proud, just as Mommy had taught her, Suyin clutching to her side. She gave a bow, as best as she could, because Daddy had taught her that, too, and said, desperately trying to keep the fear and _little girl-ness _from her voice, said, "Are you…ahem…are you the Lady Toph?"

It would be a long time before Lin understood the look that came over the Lady Toph's face. Big girl though she may have been, she was still nine, and adults were as unfathomable as gods to her. That said, she couldn't help but think that the Lady Toph looked…well…_sad_, as she quickly turned away, looking around the room.

"Yeah," she said, her voice strangely thick, "I am, but you kids can stow the _Lady," _she continued, turning back, a strange sheen in her milky-green eyes. "I'm just Toph now, as you can see."

Lin nodded, but it was Suyin who chirped, "Why you back?"

The Lady Toph smiled, and the smile seemed to light up her eyes. "Well…I'm back because this is my home, and I'd like to rebuild it. This was my room, actually…and you know…I like what you've done with the place."

Lin frowned. "How can you tell? Daddy told us you were blind."

The Lady Toph snorted. "Heh…well, I am, but that doesn't mean I can't see." She crouched down, until she was eye-to-eye with Suyin. "Would you like to learn that? How to see in the dark?"

Suyin had ducked back behind Lin's leg, and though she was shaking, Lin could tell she was just nervous, not afraid. "See in dark?"

"You bet." The Lady Toph looked up. "What about you, Big Sis?"

Lin shrugged. She knew she could move rocks with her mind, and suspected Suyin could, too, though what she was to do with that, she didn't know. _Maybe the Lady Toph will know… _"It does sound kind of cool…"

The Lady Toph laughed and stood up. "Well, then, it's settled. You two shall live with me and my girlfriend and be my first students. Does that sound alright? Either way, you're welcome to stay here as long as you like, and you have my word no one will ever hurt you again. Sound good?"

Suyin didn't need any convincing. She ran over and latched on to the Lady Toph's leg, squealing, "Yes, yes! Give ride! Give ride!"

Lin watched, very carefully. The Lady Toph's next move would decide everything. Would Lin finally have a home again, a place to keep her sister safe, or would she have to jab her knife into the Lady Toph's eye?

She didn't have to do the latter, as she watched the Lady Toph, after several moments' hesitation, swoop Suyin off the ground and plant her on her shoulders. They teetered for a moment, and then the Lady Toph jerked her head towards the door. "What do you say, Big Sis? You coming? We got plenty of food, and you'll love my girlfriend, and, I guess, Baldie, too. What do you say?"

Lin wanted to say _yes, _to scream it for all the gods and her ancestors to hear, but all she did was nod, sheathe her knife, and start for the door. "Well, if there's food…"

The Lady Toph scoffed. "I like your style, kid, though keep watch on your sister. I don't want to accidentally bang her head on any of the doorframes."

In the end, the Lady Toph was right. The Lady Toph's girlfriend (_whatever that meant_), though she was dark-skinned and had blue eyes, was very beautiful, and very nice, and laughed a lot, though not as much as Uncle Baldie, who's name she eventually learned was _Lobsang, _but who insisted that _Uncle Baldie _be his name for all time.

A year after that, Lin finally stopped calling the Lady Toph by that name, and a year after _that, _she realized that she was calling her _Mom, _her and Korra, too, and she burst into happy tears and felt at home again.

Suyin, of course, was calling the Lady Toph and Korra _Mom _by the end of dinner that very first day.

* * *

If anyone, and I mean _anyone, _tries to make some comment about how _two women can't raise kids, _or something of the sort, _we're no longer friends. _It's that simple. One woman did just fine by me, thank you very much. Love you, Mom!

Because that was nothing but heartwarming and endearing, and I don't care what anyone else has to say about it.

Moving on!


	159. SONG II

SONG

THE LAST THING SONG WANTED TO DO JUST THEN WAS GET UP OFF HER COUCH. The truth was, as much as she enjoyed the process of getting pregnant, and eagerly awaited the day when she would get her reward, right now, she felt like a bloated whale, and she was just about done. _And it's hot, too. _At least, Song thought so. Everyone kept insisting it was the exact opposite, even Katara, as sympathetic as Katara had been, and Song's best resource, her secret to an easy pregnancy. _But whatever. _Song knew the truth. She was nine-months' pregnant, and set to pop, and she didn't give a _damn _what anyone else said, if she said it was hot, it was damn well _hot._

Still, as much as she wanted to stay on that couch in her rooms at the Mifune estate, where it was cool and refreshing and her sisters-in-law seemed determined to wait on her hand-and-foot, someone was squealing like a little girl, and Song just had to find out who it was. So, she heaved herself to her feet, and waddled her way down the stairs and out onto the mansion's rear veranda.

She was prepared for a lot of things, but not for the sight that greeted her. Because, see, at some point in the night before, Song wasn't entirely sure when, _she slept a lot, thank you very much, and no, Toshiro, it's not weird, just shut up and don't touch me, but don't go away, I can't bear to be apart from you, but also don't look at me, don't ask questions, listen to Zuko, he knows how to obey his wife, _the former Princess Azula had appeared, along with the potential Prince Sokka, and Sokka was still in his wheelchair, _even though he didn't need it, _and was _popping wheelies _in it, _as he called them, _and Azula was in his lap, squealing like the aforementioned little girl, and Song just had to take a second to admire it.

Then, she started laughing.

They spinning stopped, though there was no embarrassment, and neither party showed any shame. They regarded her, and then Sokka said, "Hey, Song! You want a spin?"

Before Song could answer, Azula kissed the boy square on the mouth and growled in Guangzhou (_no doubt for Song's benefit_), "Hey, the only person who gets to ride is _me, _buster, and don't you forget it." She gave him another kiss, tousled his hair, and said, "No offense, Song."

Song rolled her eyes and waved the comment away. "Hey, he's your boyfriend, and besides, look at me." She gestured at her belly, which seemed to _far _too big, _do all women get this big when pregnant, or is it just me? _"It's not like I can go spinning in a wheelchair, though…I thought you could walk just fine now, Sokka?"

Sokka shrugged, waving his stump through the air as if a hand was still attached to it. "Meh, I can, but this is way too much fun to stop. Oh! And that reminds me, babe? Didn't you want to show off to Song?"

Azula's eyes flew wide. "I did!" With that, she leaped off her boyfriend, ran up to Song, and pulled up her shirt. "See! I have a scar, too! I can hang with the cool kids now."

Song nodded and had to admit that, yes, it _was _a scar, and an impressive one, what looked like a star blossoming on Azula's stomach, half hidden by her chest wrappings, more than enough to show how much damage her crazed half-cousin had done to her.

"Wow," Song said, duly impressed, "that's something, it really is. You Tokugawa kids don't mess around when you get hurt."

Azula dropped her shirt, motioned to Sokka, who immediately wheeled up into the perfect position for her to drop back into his lap. "Hey, if there's one thing my dope of a brother and I have in common, it's that I don't do things by halves."

Song giggled, not least because it was true, then a thought occurred to her, and she frowned. "Say…aren't you supposed to be up in the North, Sokka, learning to be a Prince?"

Sokka shrugged, looking unperturbed. "Eh, first, the big reunion on Ember Island, and _then, _Azula and I will pop up North, and after you pop, Zuko and Katara will join me, and we'll see how we all like it. If we dig it, sure, I'll give it a shot, and if not, well…_meh. _Everyone else has ditched their kings, why not the North, too?"

Song laughed, because, coming from Sokka, that all made sense. "Your idea?" she asked Azula.

Azula scoffed. "_Please. _I'm taking a one-year vacation from making any kind of decision that even _looks _like it might be important. This was all Stumple's idea."

Song felt an eyebrow pop. "_Stumbles…?"_

"Well, yeah," Sokka said, waving his stump, "because of this!"

Song rolled her eyes. "I followed." There was a kick in her stomach, and she felt suddenly light-headed. "Well, I'll leave you two to your fun; I'm going to go beach myself on the couch and eat more junk food."

"Have fun!" they called to her back, and before she was even ten steps away, they were back to spinning around and squealing.

* * *

Where's everyone else? Either not there yet, or off in town, shopping or (in Katara's case) getting supplies for Song. _Duh. _Surely I don't have to write out _everything._

Moving on!


	160. THE BOY WHO WENT HOME

THE BOY WHO WENT HOME

KOIZUMI WOULD NEVER UNDERSTAND HOW HE WAS CAUGHT OFF GUARD BY THE SIGHT OF HIS HOME VILLAGE. After all, absolutely nothing had changed. The farmers and their animals still slowly worked their way through the fields, the same road still went over the same hills and round through the same trees, even the birds and insects seemed not to have changed at all.

_And yet…_somehow, some way, it caught him by surprise. He and Wakatsuki crested that final hill, and there it was, just as the setting sun bathed it in a warm, orange glow. His breath caught in his throat, and it was all he could do to not fall to his knees and bury his face in the soft, familiar earth.

_We made it, _he thought, tears rolling down his face without shame as he threw his arm around his cousin's shoulders, a move his cousin reciprocated. _We made it._

_ We're home._

They walked into the village, arms around each other's shoulders, as if they were afraid to let go, afraid that, if they blinked, lost contact, they would wake up, and it would all be a dream. Koizumi looked at it, his army-issue knapsack bouncing and jangling on his back, his uniform (_the only clothes he had now_) beginning to itch. He couldn't wait to get it off, couldn't wait to tear it to shreds and throw it into a big bonfire. He couldn't wait, just…_just couldn't…_

And then he was standing before his house, and his mother was falling to her knees on the porch, her body shaking and heaving as she sobbed and reached out for him, and he ran to her, let her fall into his arms, buried his face in her hair and cried like a baby, cried like a baby and didn't care, felt no shame. They were all bubbling out of the house, theirs and the one next door, Wakatsuki's house, and it was like one big dog pile, it was ridiculous and silly and everyone was crying Koizumi the most of all and he took a deep breath, a deep breath that shattered him as he came out and he looked up at the sky and was home.

In that moment, Corporal Koizumi, his duty done, died, and the young man named Tetsu bid him good riddance.

It was a long time before Tetsu made it to his bed, the bed his mother had made sure always stayed empty, because he was coming home, no matter what anyone said, and Father agreed with her with all his heart, and glowered at anyone who said anything about _wasting a perfectly good bed. _Tetsu hurled himself into it. He felt like a new man, dressed in cool peasant's clothes, his uniform having been tossed into the promised bonfire. He clasped his hands behind his head and settled into his pillow and sighed with relief.

"Sorry that you have to share a room again, Brother."

On the other side of the room (_which wasn't far, sure, they were only peasants, but still_), his little brother, Satoru, laughed. "You know I don't mind, Tetsu. It's just good to have you home."

Tetsu sighed, sighed like he had not a care in the world, because he didn't. "It is good to be home." He glanced over at his brother, his brother who had just turned seventeen, and felt a strange pain in his chest. _You'll never know how close you cut it, Brother._

_ Maybe that's why I charged down that hill and up that ridge._

_ Maybe it was for you all along._

"Whatcha working on, Satoru?" he asked, watching as his brother made a cheap pencil dance across a piece of paper positioned carefully so as to catch the most light through the window. "Homework?"

Satoru shook his head. "No, I already finished my homework."

Tetsu chuckled. "Of course you did; you always were the smart one. Well, what is it? Don't keep me in suspense."

Satoru shrugged. "Just an idea I had. There's talk that they're going to open up the Royal Engineering Academy, make it easier for kids like me to get in."

"Hmm…you want to be an engineer?"

Satoru smiled, and Tetsu almost wept at the sight. "That's all I've ever wanted to be, Tetsu, only now, I have a real shot, and I don't have to go into the Army afterwards."

Tetsu nodded. _My brother, the rich and famous engineer…_

_ And why not? It's a new world. Anything is possible._

Tetsu closed his eyes, and drifted into a blissful nap. _Anything…_

_ Anything at all…_

* * *

For those playing the home game, Satoru is a character in one of the sequel comics. I'm not a fan of those comics (because they work so hard to make Kataang a _thing, _and it's all kind of gross), but, that said, I like Satoru, who's an inventor and an engineer at a mining project. If there's one thing I've liked about the scope of this project, it's getting to throw in all these random background characters from Canon.

Oh, and before I forget, one of you guys mentioned how you wondered if Asami helped with the design of Sokka's prosthetic. I hadn't thought of that, but now that I have, your headcanon is _totally _accepted.

Moving on!


	161. LOBSANG VII

LOBSANG

LATE THAT AFTERNOON, LOBSANG LEFT HIS YOUNG FRIENDS, BIDING THEM FAREWELL. There were many tears, of course, there always were. He would be seeing them all again; indeed, that was going to be his new mission in life, to circle the globe, year-after-year, seeing them all, checking on them, making sure they were alright and happy. It would, he felt, be the perfect way to wind out his final years.

But for now, he decided to leave the young ones to their fun. They didn't need an old man hanging around, and he knew they all planned to watch the coming sunrise from the beach. The fate of the old royal estate on Ember Island was very much up in the air, but for now, the people of the Fire Nation seemed content to let the former companions of the Avatar enjoy it. And he…

_And he…_

He laughed, sitting atop the mountain he had landed on not an hour before. _Why so gloomy, old man? You'll be seeing them in just a few days, when you swoop back in to take everyone back to where they need to go, and here you are, moping about on this mountaintop like it's the end of the world._

Only…it _was _the end of the world, wasn't it? For upwards of ten-thousand years, the world had been in stasis, never changing, a balance kept by beings who weren't gods, but who weren't exactly people anymore, either. _And now, it's all over. _He looked out across the sea, and watched the sun sink towards the horizon, and nodded and smiled. _Yes, it's all over._

_ It's all over, and it's all just begun._

As the sun fell ever lower, he closed his eyes and let it all come out, all the pain and the disappointment and the heartache. He felt every doubt then, every doubt and every fear. He lost hope a dozen times, _a hundred times, _regained it just long enough for it to be dashed to pieces all over again. He saw them all die, those who deserved it and those who deserved anything but. He cried like a little boy, sobbed until his ribs hurt and his eyes felt raw from all the rubbing.

And then, just like that, it all fell away. He let go of his pain, let go of his heartaches. He buried it all with the old world, and was reborn with the new. He watched the sun sink below the horizon, watched it vanish, watched the endless twinkling stars spring out across the night sky, watched Yue, Sokka's first princess, crawl across the night, and his heart swelled until it burst and then it got even bigger from there.

He cried once more, but this time, he cried from joy, from joy and happiness and that one emotion he had not felt in far too long.

_He cried, because he hoped._

Then he cradled the back of his head against his arms, closed his eyes, and drifted off into an easy sleep, a sleep filled with pleasant dreams, and when he woke back up, he felt like a young boy again.

And he could've sworn that, just for a moment, as he was climbing onto the back of Appa, his old trusty air bison, that he heard the ghostly sound of a young boy, laughing like wind chimes ringing in a gentle breeze, but he shook his head and rolled his eyes at himself.

_There you go, old man, hearing things. Careful with that, or Toph will start calling you __**Baldie McCrazy-Cakes **__or something similar._

_ Hmm…Baldie McCrazy-Cakes…I like it._

He snapped the reins, shouted _yip-yip-yip, _and soared into the sky.

_Yes, I like it very much._

_ All of it._

And thus, Lobsang flew off into the sunset, because he'd always wanted to do that, no matter how much Korra laughed at him when he tried to tell the story with the appropriate majesty a month later.

* * *

Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached it. Only two more chapters to go, one final round-up, then an epilogue. I don't want to ruin them with ANs, so this will be the last one. I'm going to take this chance to answer one question, before it gets asked: _What happened to Raava?_

Well, that's simple: Vaatu was bound to the Tree of Life, and Korra and the past Avatars did something similar to Raava. What, exactly? Well, I imagine that's hard to explain, as these things work, and besides, a little mystery is essential in things like this. I'll let you guys spin your own theories; mine is that, either Raava went into the Tree of Life with Vaatu, or Raava was bound firmly to the earth, as should've happened all along.

Moving on! *sniff*


	162. SUNRISE

I know I said, _no more ANs, _but I felt like saying that, for maximum impact, I recommend pulling _My Name is Lincoln _up on YouTube, and listening to that as you read.

Peace!

* * *

SUNRISE

KORRA WOKE UP FIRST. She always did, no matter how late she went to bed, or how tired she was when she did so. Personally, she blamed Azula, and the girl's habit of rolling Korra out of bed for sunrise firebending lessons, for reasons Korra still didn't comprehend, for all that she'd enjoyed making fire dance across the dawn sky.

She settled into her bed, and smiled. She couldn't bend fire anymore, or air, or earth. Only water, her first element, her native element, the one that was her birthright, remained to her. Her languages remained, too, why she didn't know, but beyond that, all she had left was water, and her family.

_Family…_

She turned on her side. Toph was sound asleep, dead to the world, back to the wall. Korra smiled, and gently ran her fingers along Toph's exposed forehead. Toph stirred, and softly swore in her sleep. Korra giggled, kissed the girl softly on the temple, then gently rolled out of bed, threw on a light cloak, and padded across the room to check the girls.

The girls, of course, were as sound asleep as Toph was. Korra knew they were light sleepers, so she didn't touch them, just gazed at them and wondered how this had happened. Only two months since Toph found them, and already, Korra couldn't imagine life without them. It was in those moments that the choice Raava had expected the Avatars to make confused Korra the most. _Give up attachments, and thus, give up this? Never._

In moments like that, Korra knew she had made the right choice, and never regretted it. Because, see, she hadn't just freed the world…

_She'd freed her friends…_

_ She'd freed her girls…_

The house was dead silent, the only sound the creaking of the walls and the sound of waves lapping at the shore. _Oh, and Sokka's snoring, but what can you do? How Azula stands it, I'll never know. _Korra paused in the kitchen, wondering if she should whip something up. Tea sounded good, and she felt vaguely hungry, but in the end, she decided against it.

Instead, she went out onto the veranda, the one that faced the east. She leaned against the railing, her cloak fluttering like a flag in the cool ocean breeze. The world spread out before her, a scene of unimaginable beauty. Birds lazily arced across the sky, and stars were still twinkling, faint glimmers in the sky overhead. On the horizon, the sun was still just a soft, purple glow, merely a hint, a rumor of things to come. The ocean rippled, and Korra breathed in and breathed out and decided that, for today, she would forget anything bad. She would push aside her failures, her mistakes. She would wipe from her mind the pain of parting from Raava, the horrible, mind-numbing pain, as she and her past lives bound Raava into the heart of the earth, bound it there like Wan had bound Vaatu to his tree.

She forgot about all of that, about the horrible dreams before she had come back to the world, unable to believe she was still alive. Instead, she decided that, for today, the first moment of her life was not when she was born, but when she had opened her eyes, seen Toph looming over her, and ignored the aching pain left by Raava's departure and, instead, kissed Toph greedily and told her that she loved her.

Katara was next, to no one's surprise, followed closely by Zuko. They came out, wrapped up in each other, Katara in a light cloak like Korra's, Zuko wearing only pajama bottoms. They leaned upon the railing alongside Korra, Katara threading her arm through Korra's, leaning down and kissing the girl on the head and calling her _daughter _with her eyes. On Katara's other side, Zuko wrapped his arm around his wife, kissed her deeply, and let her settle her head upon his shoulder, in the crook between his shoulder and his neck, and was content.

Soon, Toph was staggering out, yawning and rubbing at her eyes, Suyin perched on her shoulders, Lin running along in front of her. Lin took her usual spot, squeezing her way around until she was between Korra and the railing, until Korra laughed and set the girl atop the railing and tousled the girl's hair. Then Korra threaded her free arm through Toph's and they kissed and Lin made a face and Suyin giggled and all was right with the world.

No, Toph couldn't see the coming sunrise, couldn't know that, right now, the sun was finally visible, a shimmering orange sliver peeking over the ocean, but she didn't need to. Her family saw it, and she saw it through their eyes, felt it through their bodies and their hearts, and that was all she needed.

Then Suki and Asami tumbled out, and took up positions to Toph's right. Suyin had decided she was in love with Asami, and reached out for her, and Suki plucked her off Toph's shoulders and set her upon Asami's, and Asami did a few spins while Suyin squealed and everyone laughed and no one cried.

The last to come were Sokka and Azula, when the sun was almost halfway up, because neither was an early riser, especially when it wasn't required, and only Lin running back in to shake them both awake had gotten them moving. Azula's arm threaded through Sokka's one remaining one, they staggered out, and everyone laughed at them and they laughed with them, Sokka waving his stump both because he could and because it made Lin giggle, and Lin rarely giggled, though she was starting to get used to it. They moved to Zuko's left, Azula's free arm through Zuko's, her head on Sokka's shoulder, Lin back in place on the railing in front of Korra.

And so they stood, together, united, whole once again, as they always would be, whether they were together or apart. They watched the sun rise on a brand new world, and thought of absent friends, and wished them well, and smiled and laughed and sighed and wondered, and as the sun rose, on that veranda, at least, in that spot, there were no tears.

No tears, only hope.


	163. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

A MONTH AFTER THEIR REUNION AND TWO WEEKS AFTER SONG GAVE BIRTH TO A HEALTHY BABY BOY, KATARA WAS BACK IN IQALUIT. There had been some awkwardness at first, and some painful memories, but she was with her husband and her brother and Korra was saying she might pop up with the girls while Toph got started on turning the mansion into their planned academy and it all settled down. The Northern Water Tribe wined and dined the heroes of the War, and sure, there were some ugly looks from time-to-time, but soon Sokka's charm and Azula's graces had won everybody over, and all was right with the world.

Only, for Katara, it wasn't. She was extremely moody, was constantly craving foods she normally hated, and inhaling the ones she normally loved, _when she hadn't suddenly decided she hated them, that is, _and when it came to relations with her husband, it's probably best to just say that she couldn't keep her paws off of him, unless she was throwing up, which she was doing right now.

_Ugh. _She slumped back from the toilet, the sting of bile hot and sharp in her mouth. _Gods, what did I ever do to you? _She had thought she was over whatever little _stomach bug _she had caught, but _whatever, _apparently not, because halfway through breakfast here at Master Pakku's house, the world had turned sideways and her skin felt hot enough to burn and she was running blindly for the bathroom and feeling really irked that she knew how to find it so easily now. Then she had thrown up every last bite of everything she had eaten that morning, and then she was throwing up everything else, too, and, just, _ugh._

Then her husband was crouched down beside her, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and rubbing her back and covering her forehead with kisses and she felt much better. She felt so good that she pulled him down and burrowed into him and just drifted away into his warmth and his heat and his…_you know, if I just closed the door, I can't keep my hands off him these days, and, really, more than usual, it's been like this for…_

_ Like this for…_

Her eyes popped open. She did some mental math, and then remembered in a blind flash of clarity that the last time she had drunk moon tea had been the night before they marched through the southern gates of Miyako and brought the Tokugawa dynasty to an end.

_Which was…_

_ Which was…_

_ Wait…_

She caught the sharp bite of tobacco, and looked up, watched as her husband lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, blew it out, and offered it to her. "Quick puff to get out the taste?" Zuko asked, eyes soft and gentle, even the dead one, Katara didn't care what anybody said.

_Hmm…_

"Nah," she said, "I'm good."

He nodded, and gave her a quick kiss. "Mmm, vomit, _sexy._"

She poked him in the stomach. "You'd hit it."

"I believe I did, this morning."

She rolled her eyes. "_Boys. _Oh, and while we're laying here, and you're enjoying that, I just did some math, and I'm afraid I have good news and bad news."

He nodded, looking completely oblivious, because of _course _he was. "Alright, hit me with the bad news."

"Hmm…well, remember when you promised me that you'd quit smoking when I finally got pregnant?"

He nodded, eyes closed as he savored his smoke. "Vaguely. Why?"

"Well…that brings me to the good news…"

She waited, watched it sink in, watched him, watched him look down on her, fear in his eyes and a goofy grin spreading across his face.

And then he said the absolute most perfect thing and she fell in love with him all over again.

"Wait…what?"

_**FINIS**_


	164. Acknowledgements

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

There are so many people to thank, that I don't really know where to start, which is obviously a lie, because I know _exactly _where to start, that being…

Thank you, my lovely, beautiful, amazing, wonderful wife. Without her, none of this would ever have been possible. She gives me hope when I have none, pulls me out of my funks, believes in me and, most importantly, makes me believe in myself. For possibly the first time in my life, I'm happy with where I am, and I owe all of that to her. I love you forever and for always, _querida, _because without you, well, I'm just a gangly dork in crooked glasses, and where's the fun in that? I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I've decided to stop questioning it. _Te amo._

Next, I'd like to thank God, because at heart, I'm just a good little Catholic boy, and if I remember anything from my Catechism classes, it's that it's always best to cover your bases.

Thank you, Mom, just in case you ever read this, and I would like to be invited to Thanksgiving dinner again; you did all the work in raising me, and I've never given you _nearly _enough credit. It was a thankless task, but, I hope, a rewarding one. Love you, Mom!

Thanks to Austin College, for the best education five figures of student debt could buy. _Go 'Roos!_

Thanks to my fellow 'Roos, who joined me in screaming at the show back when we should have been studying, and encouraged me in my ship.

Thank you, Luo Guanzhong, for the work that gave me a title and an idea. One of these days, I'll sit down and read it all the way through. _One of these days…_

Thank you, Phillip-Morris, for your dangerous, and yet satisfying product, Marlboro Red cigarettes, which keep me going, even if I _did _decide to quite you on my thirtieth birthday. _It's nothing personal!_

Thank you, all the brewers of the world, for the beer that lubricates the brainstorming sessions with my wife on Fridays.

Thank you, Bryan and Mike, for the series that I love, even when I hate it. All of us fans give you guys a lot of crap, but, hey, if we didn't love what you created so much, we wouldn't bother to spend so much time complaining about it.

Oh, and because no one ever thanks you, I want to thank TXU, for the electricity that powers my computer, Time Warner, for the internet that lets me open fifty different tabs of Asian names and Chinese folk religion, and my apartment complex's water heater, which provides the showers in which I get my best ideas.

And, last but never least, I thank you, my readers. You guys rock; I can't praise you enough. Without you, I'd just be one more crazy guy, bellowing my headcanons at other people in the bar, wondering why everyone's looking at me funny. Sure, people still look at me funny, but because of my readers, I know I'm not alone.

You are the best, guys; I love you all, even those of you I don't necessarily like.

And with that, I say, until next time, good night, and [insert deity/non-deity of choice] bless. _Adios!_


End file.
